


The Essence of the Truth Resides Within Three Words Without which Existence is Improbable

by CaroBertaud



Series: The Truth Our Eyes Have Meant to Say for Years [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode: s08e02 Without, Episode: s08e021 Existence, Episode: s08e14 This is Not Happening, Episode: s08e15 DeadAlive, Episode: s08e17 Empedocles, Episode: s08e20 Essence, Episode: s09e06 Trust No 1, Episode: s09e10 Providence, Episode: s09e16 William, Episode: s09e20 The Truth (Part 2), F/M, Post-Episode: s09e20 The Truth (Part 2), Season/Series 08, pregnant scully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaroBertaud/pseuds/CaroBertaud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seasons 8 and 9 from Scully's point of view. Canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Codependent lifemates

**Author's Note:**

> You might want to read the first part if you haven't. Sorry for the long title, don't know if I'm spooky but I like them this way... :)
> 
> Thanks again to my restless beta/proofreader Michelle :)

There is so much to read in your eyes, Mulder. Your eyes speak a thousand and one words without you knowing what to say.

In your eyes, there's so much more than what you give; a love that builds wonders wordlessly, just your heart against my ear, and in a heartbeat everything in me resonates, seasons of your life mesmerizing my soul.

In your eyes, your past assails you, bringing out storms in which I feel fragile, and I want to embrace altogether the child, the castaway drowning in his own abyss and the lover that are all in you.

In Mulder’s eyes, there was so much respect, desire and love, and I had taken for granted all our moments that I thought would last forever. The unwavering trust, the unbreakable bond and the unconditional love.

Mulder’s presence by my side and his eyes seeking mine were as obvious and oblivious to my mind as the rising and setting of the sun every day; it wasn’t supposed to end.

But his eyes were closed now …

The few days that had gone by since Mulder had been taken seemed like a decade, and I felt it would have been less painful if I had surgically had a lung removed.

 

Lamartine said, _just one person is missing, and the world becomes a vast wasteland_. A soulless world. Why was it that it was only once you’d lost someone that you realized how much you deeply _loved_ them? I’d loved Mulder from the start; as a colleague first and then as a friend, but I couldn’t seem to find the right way to express the true, immense and precious love I felt for him now. “My one in five billion” came to mind, or “my touchstone”, but I wasn't even sure any of these was strong enough. I had been so comfortable and used to being with him that I had barely taken a moment to ask myself what was that wrenching in my stomach when his hands touched mine and my eyes drowned into his.

 

Hold on, Mulder, I’m gonna get you outta there. No matter where is _there_ , I _will_ find you. I need to look into your eyes to tell you, Mulder, that the _miracle_ you told me not to give up on … I'm having a hard time explaining it, or believing it, but um, I'm pregnant … A child, Mulder.


	2. The beginning of the end

Strong as nails as I might had always been or showed since I had joined the FBI, I registered now with total helplessness that it was only thanks to Mulder.

Now, my poor attempts to appear taller than how low I really felt, to keep my chin up as I walked in the FBI building or as I slept in his sheets were only a grand illusion of control. My whole world was falling apart around me. The rock solid walls that had surrounded me when he was by my side were collapsing one by one in his absence. If I didn't have a little heart forcefully beating in my belly, I’d have soon forgotten the necessity of eating. Or sleeping. Or breathing. Distressed, restless, unsettled was all that I was. And nauseous and dizzy, which of course now could be easily explained unlike back in Oregon when Mulder had tightly pressed himself against my back to warm me up under the comforter of his bed, all the while telling me to go back home and go on with my life, implying I could do such a thing without him.

I had no one to talk to about all this anymore. Only around Mulder had I been able to let my guard down, for only with him had I felt being cared about and unjudged and safe to exhibit moments of doubt and weakness, like a hole filled up in my being, my soul, a cushion beneath me. But now I felt idle and needy. I was going to lose it in a matter of days.

Skinner and I were being observed, threatened; the bad word “extraterrestrial” must not been said. And if this weren't enough, they were tearing apart Mulder’s office, ripping everything upside down. Tearing me inside out. Suspicion was heavy in the air and they weren't a bit shy about the manhunt on the agenda, as if Mulder had intended to disappear, as if he had kept secrets _from me_ …

The shock of the sight in front of me … of the sudden news was so violent that I considered it possible that someone had knocked me upside the head. I could not fathom one word of the medical reports they handed me.

 

Why did you keep secrets from me, Mulder? Why did you keep something this important from me? Do you have any idea … _any_ idea what it feels like to be staring at your name on your family headstone? Mulder … How … I don't know what to think. I can't make myself believe what I see. It doesn't make any sense. You didn't stage your own death to prove your point, to prove the existence of aliens. I don't want to believe that. I don't want to believe that you’re dead. I know the glass coffin, the tube in the throat, the silent humming, the cold and the dark … I’d hate to see you where I was two years ago, but it’s all the hope I have to see you again. I can't take the chance that I’ll never see you again.

 

My lonely nights were forcefully attacked by terrorist dreams, more violent and woeful than the bright, harsh memories of my own abduction, my nights had become the conquered territory of visions of horrifying barbarity.

One night though, Gibson Praise heard Mulder in the Arizona desert. Without Gibson’s gift, the humid night only pulsed with the sound of crickets and my voice calling out his name, incapable to hear him echoing me.

 

Where are you, Mulder? I desperately want to help you. But if I can’t see you now, at least know that I am looking for you, know that I will never stop calling your name until I find you, until I can hold your hands and feel your breath in my neck again, feel your heart wildly beating against my chest.

 

As emotionally exhausted as I was, I was still surprised to find myself in Agent Doggett’s arms. Astounded that I yielded in his arms, trusting that he would (somehow) gather all the broken pieces of me together. I had never allowed myself to show vulnerability to a stranger before, and never admitted any shortcomings in front of colleagues who didn't go by the name of Fox Mulder.

And yet, there was something in Agent Doggett that had allowed me to drop the stoical mask of perpetual invincibility and _unbreakability_ , to reveal the total void in which he had found me and to show my true self.

He may not have been as open-minded as Mulder would probably have hoped, but he sure was trying. If he didn’t want or wasn’t ready to believe, he sure wanted to understand. I’d been there too; Agent Doggett was my eight-years-ago self. I had not been more Division Chief Blevins’ little lapdog than Agent Doggett was the pawn the new Assistant Director Kersh wanted him to be. He had the same self-respect I had had back then and the same trust Mulder had had in me. In a way, Agent Doggett reminded me of Mulder, too.

 

By Agent Doggett’s side I had become Mulder; I was now the believer, ready to pull out the wildest theories to keep the candle of hope lighting my road to find him. Was I consciously trying to keep Mulder’s memory alive?

A bat-like creature, a parasitic organism believed to be the Second Coming of Jesus Christ, a little boy dead ten years ago and coming back unaged, a presumed murdered whose perception of time regressed backward, a cult leader seemingly able to project himself into victims’ dreams, twin brother seeing through thick walls, a metallic man, and so on … Agent Doggett was not being spared, but he was a good man and a good partner. On a case, he was just my _eyes and ears_ to quote him.

 

Remember the Pusher, Mulder? Of course, you remember. You had put your hands on my knees to reassure me that you would be all right, and I had covered yours with mine. Do you have the Playboy channel wherever you are now? Are you all right, Mulder? I wish I could hear you. I hope you can hear me at least.

 

In the meantime, the Gunmen had their eyes on the radar, waiting for any sign from outer space.

We were looking for a break, anything that could lead us to Mulder. All we could do was wait, and hope and pray. We had not given up. I felt deeply the pandemonium Mulder had been through, leaving no stone unturned in his desperate quest to find his sister.

 

I keep praying, Mulder. Though it’s been several months since you’ve deserted my life, I keep praying and have faith. You’re in my every thought, tightly hooked in my heart.


	3. The fear of losing you

I knew it had something to do with Mulder when Skinner asked to talk to me in his office but I refused to believe he and Doggett would tell me he was dead.

 

      “Are you trying to tell me this has something to do with Mulder?” I asked.

      “He's trying to tell you that it might,” Agent Doggett said matter-of-factly.

      “Richie Szalay didn't find an alien last night. He found a woman. A woman whose name you will remember, Theresa Hoese,” Skinner explained, sighing heavily.

      “Theresa Hoese was the young mother who was abducted the night before Agent Mulder was.” I could hardly restrain my tears and my voice trembled, realization washing over me in waves of pain and numbness.

      “And who was returned last night.”

      I tried to fully understand what Skinner was so cautious to tell me. “Returned?” I looked at Agent Doggett who was immobile with sorrow and helplessness on his face. My heart was pounding so hard, I could have had a heart attack right there.

      “Hanging onto life by a thread.”

 

The sight of Theresa Hoese was unbearable and so were the words her doctor used to describe her torture. “Inside her cheeks there's tissue damage in a linear pattern. Her chest was cut into and organ tissue in her abdomen is scooped away. In the X rays I see damage to the soft palate.” Tears burned the back of my eyes as I reluctantly processed in my mind the level of mistreatment and the horror Theresa had undergone. Agent Doggett was wrong when he believed these were the deeds of a man, but he was a hundred percent right about the fact that as bad as I wanted to find Mulder, I was afraid to find him too.

 

      “What if he's dead?” Tears stung my eyes as I knocked on Skinner’s motel door at night.

 

Skinner and I looked up at the stars while I told him how only a few months back Mulder and I had done the exact same thing, talking about starlight. I broke in Skinner’s arms, crying, the memory of Mulder still fresh and devouring me from the inside, making me lose both the control and the meaning of my life. I remembered the Amber Lynn LaPierre case, the suicide of his mother and the closure on his sister. I remembered the pain that I brought into Mulder’s heart when I told him his mother had committed suicide.

 

I remember your eagerness to kiss me. The force of your kiss, like a desperate cry for help. The suffocating for lack of air. The screaming plea to feel alive again. Oh, Mulder. All that pain. It’s all mine now. I want a desperate kiss from you, too. I want to fold my arms around your waist and press myself against you so forcefully that our bodies’ heat will weld back together again all the shattered pieces. I want your hands on me, your lips on me, your beautiful and caring eyes on me. I am so afraid that I’ll never have that again. I want to envelop you in my arms and protect you. I can’t prepare myself for the terrifying news of your death, it’s hard, so damn hard to admit.

 

Agent Monica Reyes, an old acquaintance of Agent Doggett’s, uncovered another disfigured body. I couldn’t do it. Gary’s autopsy. How this body … How this boy had been tortured and butchered. To death. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it. Freaked to death that the next corpse that they’d find in the fields … It was too much to take. How could someone endure so much pain? _Dana._ Skinner called me by my first name, taking me out of my horrible thoughts.

 

Goddammit Mulder, why didn't you tell me about your condition? We could have faced this together. Why did you return to Oregon? Damn you and your protective instincts! Damn you for leaving me behind. I don't want to find you like this. I am so afraid. Please, Mulder, tell me I won't find you like this. I won't find you lifeless.

 

I inhaled deeply, remembering the most primitive gestures long forgotten. I was okay. I had to stay strong. There was work to do here. I had to set apart the doctor and trained FBI agent from the friend and loving longing _partner_.

 

Interrogating Absolom, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know if he had seen Mulder, if I could bear the truth. I couldn’t help the begging in my eyes. I couldn’t hold back my tears. My whole body had metastasized into a massive ball of terror. No matter how hard I was frantically grasping at the rope I was clinging to over the precipice, its fiber was weakening, each strand of it mischievously cutting away one by one against the sharp rocks. There was barely still life in my body, even this child that I had so desperately wanted for so long was out of my mind. Mulder seemed so close and so dreadfully far away. I didn’t know what it meant, what to believe, what to hope. Was Mulder alive and hurt like Theresa was before she had mysteriously been healed?

Oh God, there I was forcefully begging to find him hurt. But alive. That was all that mattered, finding him alive. Whatever his condition, we would fix him as long as he was _alive_.

Agent Reyes’ review of the videotapes from the compound brought the first smile to my face. Jeremiah Smith. If he was around then it had to be how Theresa had been healed. And he could heal Mulder too when we would find him all messed up.

 

      But I knew … As soon as Skinner began to speak, I knew. “It's Mulder.”

 

I’m short of breath, I feel like I can't breathe. _How bad is he hurt?_ I scream at the agents again. Why isn't there anyone answering me!? Oh my God, no. No. No … No … Your face, it’s all cold, tumefied and bruised. It’s hurt. You’re hurt. I’m hurt. You need help! Agent Doggett is holding me, trying to stop me, but he doesn't understand. You need help! It’s not too late. I can bring you help. Let me go! I run as fast as I can, Mulder. Jeremiah Smith can help you. You hold on. He can help. He will help. He will heal you.

No! There is a spaceship over the house where we’re holding Jeremiah for questioning. I rush inside. It’s not too late. It can't be too late. The light is bright, people inside are screaming and all the walls are trembling. The ship _can't_ take Jeremiah Smith. You need him. And then, suddenly, it all stops, the panic, the light, the noise, everything. I rush and push the door to the interrogation room open, calling Jeremiah’s name. He’s not here.

My knees give way and fall to the ground as I look at the ceiling, bursting into tears. Significant drop in the availability of oxygen. Hypoxia triggering a heavy, painful pressure above my thorax. No, this is not happening! Noooo!

My screams echo throughout the night until maybe they hit your sleeping ears.


	4. The weight of the loss

I had probably lost consciousness because I woke in my bed with no recollection of how I had gotten there. I still had a clear picture of how his face and body were hurt and cold nonetheless.

Agent Reyes was resting in an armchair by the bed and she sat upright when she saw me awakening. It was still night and I was betting it would be night for a much longer time.

 

      “What are you doing?” She gently asked me as I started gathering my things.

      “There’s nothing for me here anymore. I have to go back to DC.”

      “Why don't you try and get a little rest first?”

      “Agent Reyes, I appreciate the concern but I can't stay,” I replied, emotionless and averting my eyes.

      “You shouldn't be alone right now, Dana.”

      The use of my first name threw me off, warmed me up somehow and I turned to face her. “I'm um, I’m not going to be. I’m going to my mother’s.” It was a lie. My mother loved Mulder dearly and I was in no condition to face her own pain. A new aching wave of emotion washed over me. The news would break her heart.

      Agent Reyes nodded softly. “I’ll drive you to the airport. Let me go and get my car keys.”

 

By the time I’d finished packing, the tall and dark silhouette of Agent Doggett was in the entrance. For a second, my breath stopped as I thought it was _him_.

 

      “I’ll fly back with you,” he told me, softly.

      “I’ll be fine, Agent Doggett,” I said looking past him and crossing to the door.

      “I know. I just want to go back too.”

 

He grabbed my bag as I walked past him and it took me off guard. I stood still and stared at him, my throat constricting and unshed tears blurring my vision. This kind and simple gesture was so Mulder’s.

 

      “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said quietly, triggering my tears to spill down my face and Agent Doggett put the bag down to the floor to hug me. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered.

 

No, it’s not okay. I’m not gonna be okay. I want these arms to be yours, Mulder, but I can't find the strength to fight Agent Doggett’s embrace. I want to wake up from this nightmare. I want to be with you. My whole body feels numb and dead. You cheated death so many times I had refused to believe that I would find you other than alive and poorly joking about it to reassure me of your well-being. I don't know if I wanna do this alone. I don't even know if I can.

 

      “It can't be,” I cried in Agent Doggett’s arms. “I failed him as his partner, I couldn't rescue him.”

      “You did everything that you could, Agent Scully. We all did.”

      “No, you don't understand. I don't —” I trailed off, words strangled in my throat. I wasn’t ready to confess to him I didn’t know where I fitted in now.

      “He must have been a great man. I wish I had known him,” he said after a moment.

      “Oh, he was,” I whispered against his chest, wiping my tears away and regaining composure. I pulled back and avoided Agent Doggett’s eyes.

      He picked up my bag and looked at me. “Agent Scully. Just so you know, I am usually up early or late, if you need anything.”

 

My smile was weak but he smiled back at me. Yeah, Mulder, too, used to wake me up at ridiculous hours. Was I really about to completely become the other half that was missing my whole? Why was it so hard on me to allow myself to break, to let it out completely, to admit that it was okay to show I was disconsolate and despondent? The agonizing ache suffusing throughout all my body was so intense that my brain was in a low energy state, as if I had had an massive epinephrine release in the immediate aftermath of a physical traumatic injury.

 

It was about three in the afternoon the next day when there was a knock on my door. I was still fully dressed and lying on my couch, already assuming Mulder’s bad habits.

 

      “Agent Doggett?”

      “I’m sorry, Agent Scully, I didn't mean to bother you today. Skinner sent me,” he said in a low voice.

      “Do uh, do you want to come in?”

      “Thank you.”

      “What is it?”

      “AD Kersh wants … Oh Jeez. I’m sorry, Agent Scully, AD Kersh wants to perform an autopsy on Agent Mulder —”

      “What!? No …” I immediately became aware and awake, and started looking for my jacket, purse and keys.

      “I know. Skinner thought so too. That’s why I’m here, he didn't want to tell you this over the phone and have you racing down to Quantico. He’s heading over there himself as soon as he can.”

      “They can't do that,” I said while grabbing my keys.

      “Skinner figured it was your call to make since … well, you know.”

 

Of course, I knew.

An hour later, we were in Quantico and I rushed inside before Agent Doggett put the car in park.

 

      “Agent Scully,” a man called to my back.

      “What’s going on here, sir?” I asked, defying AD Kersh who had bother coming down there. Agent Doggett caught me up and remained silent by my side.

      “We want to know what happened to Agent Mulder, Agent Scully,” Kersh said with a detached tone.

      “Who’s _we?”_

      “The FBI. We lost an agent, we want to know how; it’s the normal procedure.”

      “There is _nothing_ normal about this case, sir. You can't just rush in here and do as you please, you need an authorization, a consent to perform a postmortem examination.”

      “Well, technically, we do, but since he has no surviving family, the FBI —”

      “I know the law, sir. Must I remind you autopsies are my domain of expertise? _Any other person or agency authorized or under an obligation to dispose of the remains of the decedent. The chief official of any such agency shall designate one or more persons to execute authorizations pursuant to the provisions of this section.”_

      “That’s correct: _Agency authorized to dispose of the remains of the decedent.”_

      “Sir, you can't do this. Agent Mulder is … was my partner, I myself signed a form making him my legal executor subsequent my mother; I’m sure Agent Mulder did the same with me.”

      “Don't you want answers, Agent Scully? We _all_ want answers.”

      “I already have the answers. Agent Mulder has been through enough. Let him rest in peace. Give me time to provide you with the document that grants me executive power.”

      “You have one day, Agent,” he said coldly before walking away.

      “Are you okay?” Agent Doggett asked, a hand on my arm.

      “Yeah,” I whispered, feeling everything wavering around me.

      “Have you eaten anything lately?”

      “I’m _fine_ , Agent Doggett.”

      “Okay. Look, Agent Mulder knew he was dying, he had engraved his name on a headstone, it’s not inconceivable to assume he had a will, too. I’ll look into this now while you call Skinner.”

      “Thank you, Agent Doggett.”

 

It turned out Agent Doggett had been right. There was a will. I couldn't care less about his parents’ money, but along with the will was a letter.

 

_Dearest Scully,_

_If you read this, it means things didn't go as I hoped they would. I’m sorry to put you through this. I’m sorry to put an end to the incredible relationship that was ours like this. I’m sorry I didn't tell you something was wrong with me. I guess there has always been something wrong with me, but I thought it had all changed the day you walked into my life. You gave my life a meaning, Scully. You gave me a reason to get up in the morning and to hope in the evening. You lightened my darkest nights and darkened my eyes with desire. You are the most amazing and beautiful person I have ever known and I am grateful for each day that I shared with you, for having loved you and feeling so loved, Scully._

_Please don't be sad and go on with your life instead. You have so many things to do with your life that are more interesting than feeling sorry for a guy like me. I’ll be guiding you through the starlight if I can. Take good care of yourself and be safe, Scully._

_Love, M._

_I’ll leave it up to your good judgement whether or not I should donate my body to science fiction._

 

Oh my God, Mulder, how can you still make me laugh from beyond?

 

It was all white and cold now, blinding white and freezing cold.

All I was was sadness, every other emotion pushed from my being. Where there once was love, smiles and hope was now an aching hollowness. The snow and the cold made a draught-proof silence that seemed to howl. Our hearts cried in inconsolable grief, my eyes blurred until they could seek _him_ at nights among the stars. My breathing was slow and numb, requiring all my concentration to remember the mechanics of inhalation and exhalation, inspiration and expiration. Air was missing and hurting. Everything was all blurry. I did not know if I would ever make sense of this nonsense let alone admit what was inadmissible. I closed my eyes and I laid my hand above my belly.

 

      “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”

 

You’re inside me, everywhere, Mulder. And beating inside me. A great tree has fallen, leaving out a seed to grow. This redress would be beautiful if it weren’t so horribly tragic. I can't get myself to leave the cemetery when everyone else does; I don’t want to leave you alone. Skinner stays with me. I know he cared for you a lot. I know he feels heavily guilty for having _lost_ you as he put it himself.

 

      “He was the last,” I told him, softly. “His father and mother. His sister. All gone. I think the real tragedy is that for all of his pain and searching, the truth that he worked so hard to find was never truly revealed to him.” I can't truly believe that I'm really standing here.

      I didn’t notice I had said that out loud until Skinner answered, “And I don't truly believe that Mulder's the last,” bringing even more tears to my eyes as I rubbed my hand harder against my stomach.

 

I can't look down at your grave as I grab some earth to drop onto it. I don't know how I can go on with my life, Mulder, without your guidance, your benchmark, without you by my side. It’s like a damn flashlight without a battery. Useless. I’m not ready to say goodbye. There are so many things I wish I had told you. We could tell each other thousands of things through a simple glimpse, reflection of our souls and hearts, but there are certain things still I wish I had told you in person, looking straight into your eyes; how much you meant to me, how much I loved you, how much I still do. I’m confident that you knew it, but my God, I am not ready to let you go, to have a life outside of yours. How can I shut down the world and cry my heart out? I miss you so much, Mulder. I miss the energy that radiated from your person in such a rare way that I haven't ever seen in anybody else. I miss your eyes and hands, these direct interlocutors of our special non-verbal way to communicate. I miss you so, so much, Mulder. You believed in so many things, Mulder, do you believe in eternal love, too?

 

Sadness had settled over my consumed-by-the-desire-to-rewind-time body, and I sometimes wished I could forget him, even just for one moment. But it seemed that only death could offer this; life had no such indulgence. Nevertheless I would always, _always_ feel blessed and grateful for having met him. Many people didn’t know what happiness was but Mulder brought it into my life even if it was for too short a period of time.

We didn’t always agree, in fact we hardly ever did, we bickered with each other and challenged each other’s theories all the time but despite our differences we had one very important thing in common: we were addicted to one another. Happiness was a dangerous feeling, because when you came to lose it …

 

Impatience of meeting our child overcame my fears and sorrow, filled the hole in me, the thought of having a little Mulder in my life warming up my eyes with tears. Times passed slowly and I took each day as a victory for making it to bedtime. Each day, I greeted the sun like a climber greeting their rope, fingers holding on fast in spite of the ache. Seconds turned into minutes which turned into hours which turned into days which turned into weeks and so on. In this sadness there was no past nor future, there was only surviving the moment until my body could do no more, until sleep came to rest my weary mind. This was how my life turned without Mulder, this was my soulmate’s curse. I missed everything about him. I was completely unable to get out of those black clothes, unable to cheer up and think about something else.


	5. My living embodiment of joy

And then one day, I woke up; it had apparently been three months since Mulder left and incredible news came to my knowledge, as hopeful as a brand new shiny penny at the bottom of a wishing fountain.

 

      “Is it true?” I asked, rushing down the hospital hall.

      “Slow down,” Skinner said, blocking the way.

      “No. I want to see him.”

      “I know you do.”

      “No, I _need to see him_ , damn it!” I pleaded.

      “You're not going in there. Scully, you can't.”

      “Tell me it's true. Tell me,” I begged, needing so badly to hear the word.

      He looked at me, gritted his teeth and whispered, “Yes.”

 

My hands were folded together in prayer while I waited for Agent Doggett to exit Mulder’s room. The feelings I had for Mulder would not end until my body would cease to function. Hope and prayer were a bright star in a hopelessly dark universe. When Agent Doggett eventually got out, I begged him to fill me in with the doctors’ prognostic. But all he could do was to remain silent, glancing reproachfully at our boss. Unnerved and trembling, I trudged past Agent Doggett and opened the door to his room. My heart was bleeding from a thousand paper cuts and I had to shake off the anxiety growing inside me.

 

And there he was. Alive. On life support, but _alive_. I laid my palm against his chest and it goes up and down. I could feel his heartbeat. This was the most beautiful and powerful moment of my life. I shouldn't have been afraid of the shadows of the night; they were simply the proof that there was a light not far. I slowly leaned to hug his stomach and pillowed my face on it, crying from all the relief and happiness at having found him. Alive. Smelling him. Feeling his warmth. I would never let go. I could finally rest. I had not rested in so long.

For days, I barely left his bedside, one hand on my stomach and the other holding and caressing him. Until this incredible moment when his hand moved, taking my breath away and causing tears to course down my cheeks.

 

      “Mulder. Hi,” I whispered, incredulous.

      “Who are you?”

      I swallowed painfully and then a little smile played on his face, filling my world with sunlight again. “Oh, my God.” Perfect timing for a joke, Mulder. “Don't do that to me. Do you know? Do you have any idea what you've been through?”

      “Only what I see in your face.”

 

I gently caressed his hair above his forehead and leaned down to lay my face against his chest, feeling him, feeling my living embodiment of joy and allowing myself for the first time to shed tears of _joy_.

 

      “Anybody miss me?” He murmured. I chuckled and cried as I felt him smelling my hair.

 

Agent Doggett peeked through the door. He was hurting. For a very brief moment, I felt like I was cheating on him. He didn't seem relieved at seeing Mulder awakened, therefore I guessed he must have felt something similar to cheating too. He walked backward and closed the door.

 

I smell your chest. This is what I know. This is us. This is what I’ve always known and it’s so good to have it back, to have you back, to feel the warmth of your hand squeezing back at mine.


	6. Rebuilding

      “Mulder I don't know if you'll ever understand what it was like. First learning of your abduction and then searching for you and finding you dead. And now to have you back and, uh …” I said, tiptoeing him.

      “Well, you act like you're surprised.”

      “I prayed a lot. And my prayers have been answered.”

      “In more ways than one.”

      “Yeah.”

      “I'm happy for you. I think I know how much that means to you.”

      “Mulder —”

      “I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cold or ungrateful. I just I have no idea where I fit in. Right now. I just, uh I'm having a little trouble processing everything.”

 

I hated this coldness, this distance between us. But I understood it. It was totally normal for Mulder’s reaction to be shock, disorientation, utter confusion. I could give him time. All the time he needed. His standing here in his apartment was beyond everything that I could ever have hoped for. There was time now. Time made sense. It wasn’t scary anymore. Time did not exist independently from us, it was our own awareness that defined it. Love and passion were a desire of eternity, a never-ending moment, a portal to another dimension. Time had paused and settled and I was catching back up to it, and Mulder could take all the time he needed to adjust his own time too, I would be right here. It seemed so far away since we’d last been together, measurable only by the size of my rounded belly where life and memory kept growing despite his absence.

 

I tried to protect him, protect him from booking himself on a Princess Cruise as he called it, I tried to convince the Gunmen to work with me and tell him he was going to have to let this Absalom case go, I tried to be patient, even when it freaked me out to know he was high jacking the Federal Statistic Center. But in the end, we were like those old couples who were either so used to being together or so estranged that sharing an apartment but not a bed was obvious and comfortable enough. Sharing a couch and a pizza, really, rather than an apartment.

 

He lied back down and extended his arm for me to nestle by his side and I thought this was now or never, patience had lasted long enough. I wanted the Mulder I knew, not this awkwardly distant one. I had looked into what was bothering him, had managed his stress, lightened his dark moods. Now was the time for phase two. Lying down on the couch. Raising enthusiasm. Cheering him. Laughing over the merest trifle. Having so much to say. Extending the magic of our eyes meeting. Revealing a secret. Speaking words straight to his heart.

 

      “So? I guess you didn't donate my body to science after all?” He smiled as we were side by side on his couch.

      “No,” I smiled too, “It was … too messed up.”

      He nodded and silenced for a moment. “Tell me, Scully. Who’d you ask?” I looked at him, unsure what he meant. “The donor procedure. Was it Doggett?”

      “There wasn't another in-vitro attempt, Mulder.”

      “I don't get it. That night when you came back home, you said —”

      “It didn't take. And it didn't, Mulder.”

      “You mean …?”

      “I was wondering if you’d ever ask.” I smiled again. “This baby was conceived the old-fashioned way, Mulder.”

      “With me!?”

      “Mulder! Of course, with you! Who do you take me for?”

      “No,” he chuckled, “I didn't mean to say it like that, but wow, this is huge, Scully. So this is what Langly meant by my _involvement in a certain blessed event_.”

      “Yeah,” I whispered, unable to get rid of my idiotic smile.

      “How is it even possible?”

      “I … don't know, Mulder. It defies explanation. This is a scientific impossibility.”

      “You didn’t have enough of the X-Files, did you? You had to make your life an X-File when I wasn't around.”

      “I had to make a life, Mulder. Period.”

 

He pulled me closer to him, pressing my shoulder against his rib cage, and I closed my eyes and leaned toward him to hug his stomach when he kissed my temple. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, I settled my head upon his chest and we rested thus until we fell asleep.


	7. Rousing passions

A couple of days later, he knocked on my door, present in hands, all joyful, flirting and feigning annoyance about the pizza man. This baby idea was making its way; Mulder seemed like a new man, finally ready to open up to me again.

 

Unfortunately, an abdominal pain forced us to postpone the sweet moment and Mulder took me to the hospital. But if I had any remaining doubts about the origins of this peculiar pregnancy, they all vanished away as quickly as if I’d read the results of a paternity test when Mulder laid his eyes and palm on my round belly. He was touching his son but chills ran through me at the magic eloquence of the moment. The softness and peacefulness of his gaze illuminated his face with joy. He was more beautiful than ever.

 

      “Mulder, you never fail to surprise me. I just wish I felt like eating it right now,” I said later in my apartment.

      “That's cool. We can just wait for the cheese to congeal and eat it later. You miss your regular pizza man, don't you?”

      “Yes. That's okay. He's coming by later.”

      “I bet you forgot about that, didn't you?” He said, handing me again his wrapped present.

      “No, I didn't, actually. I thought about it a lot while I was lying in my hospital bed wondering what on earth you could have given me.”

      “And?”

      An improbable old handmade doll revealed itself from the opened package. “Oh, my God. Oh, Mulder.” Mulder’s gifts were always so original and unique.

      “Is it what you imagined?”

      “Not even close.”

      “Oh, my, that's the wrong doll, actually.”

      “But then that's the other gift that you gave me, Mulder. Courage to believe. I hope that's a gift I can pass on.”

 

We looked at each other and then I gently grabbed his tee-shirt and pulled him to me. He leaned toward me and our lips locked together for the first time in such a long time. A wave of thrilling shivers washed over me, my whole body melting as tears pushed in the back of my eyes, ready to cascade, the scenery fading away instantly leaving only the both of us hooked together by our hooked tongues gently mingling. He had a hand on my cheek and the other on my belly, and I clasped his face in my hands. Our tongues rolled languidly, our chests swelling, and I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. He pulled back and swept them away.

 

      “Damn hormones!” I complained, laughing and crying.

      He smiled, a bit worried. “Is that what it is?”

      “Yes. And no,” I replied, confused. He sat in the back of the couch and pulled me against the side of his rib cage like a few days before. “I’m just … overwhelmed by all this, overwhelmed to be with you again. I’ve missed you so much, Mulder, and uh —”

      “Hey, hey, shush … I know,” he whispered, stroking my hair.

      “And I want you so much.”

 

He covered my mouth with his again, sending a new charge into my chest. His lips and tongue were the best of flavors, better food than all the finest non-fat tofutti rice dreamsicles. The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of his heat under my palms, the sound of his breathing … but for my eyes firmly shut to hold back tears moistening their edges, all of my five senses ignited desire like the wick of a firecracker ready to explode. I craved him like a drug addict. I wanted to show him how much I longed for him to make love to me, slowly taking his hand while kissing and putting it on my breast. He looked at me, a bit concerned.

 

      “Isn't it dangerous? For the baby, or for you?”

      “I don’t see how it could.”

      “Aren't you supposed to rest?”

      “That’s a moot question. According to which doctor?” I smiled.

      “Ha! I wouldn’t wanna go against _any_ doctor’s orders,” he said, getting up and pulling me up by the hands. “Come on.”

 

Holding his hand in mine, I dragged him to my bedroom and switched on the nightstand lamp. I took off my robe and slowly unbuttoned my pajamas top, staring at him, exposing a pair of heavy breasts before him. He drank in every inch of my exposed flesh. Then he stepped closer and weighed my engorged breasts and kneaded them for a good period of time, tenderly kissing my mouth, my cheeks, my eyes and my neck.

 

      “Scully, you’re incredibly beautiful,” he murmured in my ear before kissing that part of my body too, pressing himself gently against me, making me feel his hard desire. He wrapped me in his arms and hugged me tenderly for a few minutes, caressing my back as I stroked his underneath his tee, just breathing each other’s familiar but too long forgotten smells. Just sinking our selves into each other’s arms.

 

That was my phase three. Surprise him in the dark. Sow confusion in his mind. Set the trap and wait. If he vanished, call 911. Get him knocked over by one breath. Make his head spin. Tie him up tenderly. Undress him with one gaze. Overwhelm him. Wake his sixth sense. Keep up mystery.

I untied his belt and unbuttoned his pants as he took his tee off. He took my hands and eased me down on my back on the bed where he leaned, completely naked, between my spread legs. His hands fondled my stomach and breasts equally, his lips brushing my round belly now and then.

 

      “Is this position comfortable?”

      “It’s fine.”

      “This little one takes up quite some space.”

      “Yeah,” I whispered, smiling.

      “Your pregnant body fits you perfectly, Scully. It’s tense, inflated with life, made for love. You _exude_ sexuality. And sensuality. Have I said you were beautiful already?”

      “Get over here, Mulder.”

 

He cautiously bent down, resting his weight on his arms by my sides and we exchanged another long passionate kiss, his lips pushing in more firmly. I could feel little twitches, the ordeal of his sex over my pajamas pants and I was pretty sure he could feel my wetness. I took his sex in my hand and gently stroked it while our kiss increasingly became demanding, almost furious, and out of breath. I lifted my hips and he pulled me out of my clothes and his hand immediately landed on my folds. He stared at me with loving eyes, drawing quickened and shallow breaths as we stroked each other. Those eyes. How I had missed them. Warmhearted eyes. The kind of eyes that made you feel they knew you better than you did. The kind of eyes that made you become hypnotized by their changing colors. The kind of eyes that allowed you to dare to open up and reveal your most intimate secrets. The kind of sparks-shining eyes in which you witnessed lust and desire grow and intensify like a firework. The kind of eyes that lingered into your deepest soul to bring you back to life.

 

      “You sure it’s safe? For the baby, I mean.”

      “Are you being presumptuous,” I mocked.

      “Hey!” He objected. “I’ve never made love to a pregnant woman.”

      “If it’s any comfort, neither have I.”

      “Hmm, not that I would mind witnessing this anyway,” he quipped.

      “Really!?”

      “Don’t be mad, it’s gotta be every man’s fantasy. But you’re my bigger fantasy, Scully. And currently bigger than ever.”

      “You’re still talking about fantasies, right?”

      “Yeah,” he smiled softly, leaning in to kiss me. “You sure you want to do this?”

      “You’re nervous?”

      “Well, maybe a little. But you do look tired too.”

      “Then stop talking and get inside.”

      “I thought I already was.”

      “Mulder, will you shut up?”

 

Final phase. Unleash passions. Succumb to temptation. Trifle with love. Come within a hair's breadth of indecency. Stimulate creativity. Give him wings. Spice up appearances. Intoxicate him with a perfume. Keep in love. Bowl him over. Be his only obsession. Cause his eyes to shine with joy. Rouse passions.

I lied on my side and he spooned me from behind, kissing my shoulder blade and slowly entering me, bringing new tears to my eyes.

 

      “Oh my God, don't mind my tears, Mulder, it’s only my hormones talking. Don't you dare stop now.”

 

He tenderly smiled and wiped them away anyway while thrusting gently inside me. I closed my eyes, letting in all the waves of blessedness, peacefulness and pleasure running through me. It was the most intimate and sensual sex I had ever had. So warm. Mulder was more sensitive and tender than ever. His movements were slow but setting my whole body on fire. The more he touched me, the more I was hungry for his touch. His delicate fingers over my yearning skin burned me like a hundred suns. His soft moans fueled my desire and love for him, driving passion into a crescendo, a flush of warmth traveling my entire body.

 

      “Oh my God, Dana,” he said, sweaty and all tensed behind me, turning my face to meet his into a kiss.

 

As he quickened the pace of his thrusts, his mouth devouring mine and his fingers stroking my clit, I felt all my walls suddenly break and I cried in his mouth as spasms quickly took over my body. Too quickly, I regretted. I had gotten lost in the moment, my resisting had crumbled, my insides too deprived to hold back the pleasure that had grown. Hard. And maybe I triggered his orgasm because shortly after he let out an almost primal noise, his body gripping and convulsing around me, breathing hot air in my neck where he buried his face for a while. He collapsed on his back behind me, keeping a protective hand on my voluminous belly. This was when you realized that happiness was also about still desiring what you had already and always had.

I turned to the other side, laying my big belly between us as my orgasm subsided and our breathing and heartbeats slowly settled back to normal. He turned to face me too and kissed the last tears off my face.

 

      “Hey,” he whispered.

      “Hey. Welcome back.”

 

He clasped my face between his hands and kissed me again. I gasped in surprise and shuddered again in his deep and slow kiss. I was floating with pleasure and happiness again, out of ordinary time boundary, under ecstasy for all I knew. Intoxicated in the best of ways. Eventually he nipped my lip and pulled back, gently smiling.

 

      “You’re not still keeping scores, are you?” I asked, smiling too.

      “What are you talking —”

      I covered his mouth with my hand. “Don't bother lying; Frohike told me you counted our kisses.”

      “That little two-timer!”

      I laughed, then I was serious again. “It was a difficult time, without you around, Mulder. It was nice to talk to your friends.”

      “Yeah,” he whispered thoughtfully. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

      “No, I don’t need to anymore.”

      He kissed me again, as if to take away all that remained from this dark time. “Hey, still hungry for some pizza?” He asked after a moment.

      “I guess.”

      “What time’s your pizza man showing up anyway?”

      I chuckled. “Let me get into the shower first.” I pulled myself up with difficulty and Mulder helped me.

      “Hey.” He grabbed my hand as I started walking to the bathroom, and I looked at him. “I’ve missed you too.”

 

I hadn't checked at the sky but I was pretty sure it was star-filled.


	8. Premise and promise of a family

Of course, returning to normalcy didn’t mean things were all good all the time. With Mulder anyway.

 

      “Just like old times,” Mulder said with the smile of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, as he entered Kersh’s office with Agent Doggett.

      “Now it's all making sense,” Kersh commented as he realized he was left with “no choice now but to conduct a criminal investigation quickly and quietly to take away any legal position that would affect American interests.”

 

Why was I not surprised to hear Mulder responding to my radio call on that rig in the Gulf of Mexico?

 

      “Scully, if these men are infected, the last place we want them is on-shore where they can infect other people. You're sitting on the answer right there, Scully. The body. You find the virus, you can find what knocks it out, you can find what kills it.”

      “And what if I can't?”

      “Well, when he, uh, gets old enough, you tell the kid I went down swinging.”

 

We were talking about potential immediate danger and he thought about _“the kid”_ , thereby taking away all my will to blame his not following orders. This really was like old times, him improbably joking at the most threatening situations. However, this time it eventually costed him his job.

The good thing was, though, I was officially out of work too on pregnancy leave, not that I didn't worry or feel guilty for leaving Agent Doggett, but I was almost starting to feel like any other woman when Mulder came to pick me up for Lamaze class.

 

      “I'm betting that Agent Doggett can take care of himself. He's a big boy. You've got to worry about the little boy or little girl. Boy? Or girl?” Mulder asked.

 

I didn't answer but there was sparkling in his eyes. He seemed genuinely interested in this pregnancy, but it wasn't that surprising and I didn’t think I had expected any less. I just smiled at him and I felt he heard it as a _yes_ , filling his heart with pride and warmth.

I was amazed by all that we’d been through; from that Oregon motel room and the night we first learned to trust each other, I enough to undress in front of him lest marks on my back might have been other than mosquito bites, and he enough to share personal and painful memories, up to this very moment/ Mulder’s hands, warm and caring on my belly as I had mine on his knees, sitting between his bent legs, leaning back against his chest and exhaling all air from mine. I felt him hold his breath and then he inhaled fully when I did too.

 

      “Mulder, this is not an apnea contest,” I whispered over my shoulder.

      He bent his head and rested his chin upon my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Scully, I’m new to all this, what am I supposed to do?”

      “Just close your eyes and relax.”

      “Wow! Did you feel that?” He asked as the baby kicked against my belly where his hands laid.

      “Yeah,” I whispered, covering his hands with mine.

 

We looked no different than the other couples besides us. There was carefulness and tenderness and love. Just like any other family.

Family. I didn't even know if that was what he wanted. If he would — let alone could — step away from the conspiracies, the monsters and the dangers that constantly threatened our lives. If he wanted to settle down with me and our son for a while. To be honest, I hadn't asked myself either if I was ready for this too. I had started this pregnancy alone and had managed (for obvious and legit reasons) to accept the idea that it would be just me and my baby. But then he had miraculously returned now, and things were different and (I think?) I was open to the idea that we could be a family like every other one if that was his wish too.

 

      “Scully,” Mulder whispered in my ear.

      “Dana?” The instructor repeated.

      “I’m sorry?”

      “Do you want to lie on your side?”

 

As I looked around, I saw that all the other couples had changed positions. Mulder kneeled behind my back, supported himself on one arm, cupped my inner thigh with his other hand, and lifted it toward my chest as asked by the instructor.

 

      “Are you comfortable?”

      “You’re doing good, Mulder, don't worry.”

      “Okay,” he nodded. “We can still practice that position at home if you think I can get better at this,” he whispered, smiling, trying to hide his own discomfort..

 

As I followed the instructions on relaxing, picturing the path of the air coming in and out my lungs, it suddenly felt uncomfortable to do this with Mulder. It felt like a commitment I had not asked him (or myself for that matter) to make. I didn't know if _he_ was comfortable with all this.

 

      “Mulder,” I said as we sat back in the car. “You know you don't have to feel obligated to me or to anything.”

      “Don't be silly, Scully. I was happy to do this with you.”

      “What I mean to say is uh, I don't know what will happen when the baby is born.”

      “What will happen?”

      “Well, yeah, you know.”

      He took a pause and we looked at each other, as if he wanted to fully understand what I was (barely) saying. “Scully, when you asked me last year to be your donor, I was more than happy to say yes. And to be honest, I had questions about the awkwardness of my role in your child’s life. If I had even the right to _think_ I could have a role in it. I didn’t know If you just wanted the donation or if you wanted me to help raise him or her and, well, I didn’t really have enough time to overthink it.”

      “Mulder, —”

      “Hold on please, let me finish this,” he said, taking my hand over my lap. “Then we had sex — great sex I must say. Does it change anything? No. Do I still wonder where I fit in? Yes. But don't assume I don't want to take responsibility in this pregnancy, even if, I know, responsibility might not be the best choice of word because you _wanted_ this child. Don't assume that I don't want a role to play there. I’m not the kind of person who would say _Thanks for the amazing sex, let’s do that again whenever, the sooner the better … oh and by the way tell the kid Uncle Mulder says hi.”_

      “I know, Mulder. That’s not what I meant.”

      “What did you mean to say? What do you want, Scully?”

      “Mulder, if you ask me, of course I want you to be a part of his life but I also don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated.”

      “So, it’s _his_ life?” He smiled and squeezed my hand. I smiled too in admission. “Well, I don’t feel _obligated_ , Scully, to anything other than maybe your well-being and safety, and _his.”_

      “I’ve had seven months to think about it, Mulder. You don’t need to decide right this moment. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to regret this or anything or to be the one stopping you from whatever other things you want or have to do with your life.”

      “Have I really been so long gone that you don’t know me anymore?” He asked, half-joking half-serious. I smiled, a bit ashamed but also relieved. “Scully, how can I regret anything when you are literally offering to have me spend the next eighteen years by your side? Well, for a start anyway …” I chuckled and started crying. “Hormones again?” He softly mocked. He leaned toward me and wrapped me in his arms. “Scully, if you want it too, I _want_ to be more than a part in both of your lives,” he said at my back, fondling my hair. Now I really cried. “I don't have a tissue but you’re welcome to use my sweater if you need to blow your nose.” He pressed his lips on my hair.

 

When Mulder felt committed to something, he did it thoroughly, even if it meant chasing me down in the FBI hallways where he was now, more than ever, the most unwanted. He had wandered away from his tour (how could he even sign up to in a tour unnoticed in the first place?) and found me as I was autopsying Doggett’s murder victim before my ex-partner had gone missing.

 

      “I, uh, also found some bacteria in the venom which I'm going to do a culture on,” I said, uncomfortable, knowing that I was not supposed to be there but on pregnancy leave.

      “Let somebody else do it. There are other concerns right now,” Mulder pressed me.

      “I know, but this is an X-File, Mulder, and you are out of the Bureau, and now if I go home, where is Skinner going to find someone qualified to look into this?”

      “I know where he could find somebody.”

 

Mulder knew I cared for Agent Doggett. Maybe he even it knew better than I did myself. But he never questioned it, never asked or insinuated anything. He knew it reassured me that he went out to help and he did it generously when he had nothing to gain that he didn't already have. Just because it made me feel better. Just because in some way it felt like taking care of me.

When the case was over, we went to visit Agent Harrison at the hospital. We looked like every other couple. Closer to one another and invigorated by our recent open-hearted conversation.

From work partners, to friends, to sexual partners and now to Lamaze partners, one final step toward the prospect of becoming a happy family.


	9. Everything falling away

Preoccupied as I was on the home stretch, I had no idea what Mulder and Doggett had been up to until they showed up at night and I had to put in a few stitches above Mulder’s eye.

 

      “I see why you gave up a career in medicine for the FBI, Scully. You've got manos de piedra,” he joked.

 

It kind of was amusing and I was glad to see that the two of them finally got along. But again there was often a serious situation downplayed when Mulder joked about something.

 

      “And what were you doing there, Mulder?” I asked reproachfully when I heard that they had been looking into a fire case at Zeus Genetics.

      “Looking for answers.”

      “To what?” Let’s hear the words again; conspiracies, aliens, what this time?

      “One of those doctors was your doctor.”

      “Mulder —”

      “Listen, I'm sorry, but I just need to know this baby of yours is going to be all right.”

      “My baby is fine, Mulder. I've had it checked over and over again with my new doctor that I trust implicitly.”

 

I knew where he was going with this and I couldn’t say that I blamed him, really. But so close to my due date, I didn’t feel like debating the origins of this baby. Did he worry about the fact that this baby could be partly alien? Probably so, and probably that I did too or that I had somewhere along the way. But my new doctor had completely reassured me. I wanted to focus on that.

There were indeed other possibilities than this extreme scenario of an alien hybrid borne out of the chip in my neck. Maybe doctors were wrong in the first place. Maybe I wasn’t barren or maybe not all of my ova had been removed. Or maybe the in-vitro _did_ take after all. Or again maybe I _had been_ barren, but there was documentation about women who had been once barren and suddenly and unexpectedly gave birth naturally after some time.

My baby _was_ normal. I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe he was a child made of love, and not of conspiracies. I wanted to believe he was Mulder’s. I was sick and tired of worrying, I had been through that already and it was behind me now. My baby was fine and nothing bad was going to happen.

 

      “That's all I'm trying to do. Just make sure nothing happens to you; that this baby you're carrying is born without any surprises,” Mulder said honestly.

 

I knew he wasn't just looking for trouble and conspiracies for the sake of looking for trouble and conspiracies. And that was what scared me the most. That there might be even a slight part of truth in what he and Doggett were investigating, that something could be wrong with my child in spite all the precautions I had taken. I looked at Doggett to seek his eyes only to see that both my ex-partners were for once on the same wavelength, having doubts and thinking that there could be something to fear. Fear that seemed to be confirmed only a few hours later as I caught Lizzy, the woman I had allowed in my apartment at my mother’s insistence, interfering with my prescription and changing my pills for some others.

 

      “I want you to know you can stop worrying, Dana. Your baby is fine. Everything is absolutely as it should be, 100%. The pills you were worried about were just vitamin supplements. Nothing harmful. Nothing you'd be afraid to give any expectant mother. I know it doesn't make sense but it's a relief, I'm sure,” the doctor calmly said at the hospital.

 

No, I couldn’t say that it was a relief. How could it? Everything that Mulder had suspected seemed alas truer than ever. One more time. I did what I knew to do best; I kept everything all bottled up (much to my mom’s dismay) and glanced at Mulder for support. I also wanted to apologize to him but what I read in his eyes felt like an apology too, for being right. His gaze was protective, inquiring about my well-being, and worried. We both longed so much for the quietness everyone deserved every once in a while. Why was it so complicated?

 

      “You here alone?” Mulder asked, rushing in my place as I opened the door, just back from the hospital.

      “Yes. My mom just went to the —”

      “Whatever you can't get elsewhere, just throw it together.” He was gently but urgently pushing me toward my room to grab my stuff and this whole story was starting to freak me out for good.

      “Mulder, to go where? No, just _stop!_ Can you tell me what's wrong? Is it something to do with my baby?” I pressed him to explain, anxiety building inside me again, eroding my deepest convictions.

      “No, your baby is fine. It's you who's in danger now, Scully.” His voice was calm and monotone, but his eyes showed all the determination he had to get me out of here.

      “From who? Mulder, from what?” I pleaded.

      “I don't know, I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything. I just know I got to get you out of here.”

      “Mulder, look, I can't take this! I can't live like this … as the object of some unending X-File.”

      “This isn't about the X-Files, Scully. It is only about you. Now, you are going to have this baby and I'm going to do everything I can to protect it. I just can't do that here.”

 

My recent calm had been replaced by a myriad of thoughts, each one more worrying than the last. A pregnancy was supposed to be free from stress and yet every muscle started to feel tight, my heart rate already accelerating in anticipation of a hasty runaway. Mulder and I stared at each other a few seconds. He didn’t show any fear, only fortitude that he would not let me out of his sight and that we’d get through this. Together. And then about three minutes later, the lights of the apartment went off, precipitating our exit to the point of having no other choice but to accept Krycek’s help as he just ran over the resurrected-into-a-Super-Soldier Billy Miles.

Now, I had no more doubts: they either wanted me dead or they wanted my baby.

 

      We were in Skinner’s office at the FBI, and I asked Krycek, “Why?” psychologically exhausted.

      “They didn't even know about it. I don't know exactly how they could have found out just how important it is, how special.”

      “My baby is normal,” I whispered, partly in denial and mostly not to lose my mind. Just tired of this endless race against restless enemies.

      “Your baby was a miracle. Born of a barren mother's barren womb,” Krycek said.

      “Are you saying that they're afraid of it?” Mulder asked.

      “They're afraid of its implications. That it could somehow be greater than them. Something more human than human.”

      “I don't believe this,” I whispered, weary. Didn’t I really? Or did I just not want to?

      “You wanted to destroy her child,” Skinner pointed out.

      “I wanted to destroy the truth before they learn the truth.”

      “That there's a God, a higher power,” Mulder realized.

      “I don't believe this crap; I don't believe you're all sitting around here listening to it when you know this man's a liar. Worse than that,” Doggett said.

      “You can believe what you want but I don't think you can take the chance that I'm wrong.” Krycek looked up at Mulder.

 

As we tried to get out of the Hoover Building, I felt like a ball in the middle of a game, being thrown from hand to hand with no control over who was holding me or throwing me to whom. Billy Miles was in the building, literally unstoppable. I couldn’t really think clearly as to what was going on, a part of me still in total denial of what I had just heard. Why not say that I was the Virgin Mary and my child born of no father (or no sperm donor) while we were at it? Mulder _had been_ resurrected from the dead after all, even if it took him three months rather than three days.

Mulder and I had a quicker than a ray of light last glance at each other before the elevator doors closed, and I hoped he was not going to put his own life at risk once again, but I was in no condition to argue his confounding judgement that Krycek would protect me. At this point, if Mulder had handed me over to the cigarette smoking man, I would have gone with him blindly.

Nevertheless, if I couldn’t escape from this nightmare with Mulder, then at least I was able to have Monica by my side. I hated to appear weak or vulnerable, I hated when Mulder feared for me every now and then or how he felt like he had to protect me, but the truth was, now I wished Mulder was here. To wrap me with the confidence and strength only he could provide.

But I must admit spending time with Monica felt better than I had expected. Not the part where she imitated whale songs, reminding me of my sister and of the terrible time that followed her murder, but it had been long since I last felt like I could see a woman as a potential friend. It was not what I had imagined for giving birth but it was nice, considering. I thanked her, deeply touched that such nice and generous people like Mulder, Skinner, Doggett and Monica were ready to do anything in their power to help me, to lighten me of the heavy luggage I was carrying.


	10. Three words

I thought giving birth would be a magical moment. Then again, I had not planned on pushing the baby out with threatening and obscure witnesses, or with the sensation of not knowing if I would or even could hold him in my arms once he’d be born. Feeling like a prisoner with no right over their own child or their own life, with shackles on wrists and ankles. Merely the right to give birth. I was so frightened that they would take him away from me. Psychological pain so strong that it dominated and faded away all physical pains. There wasn’t any other sensation but the anguish fear of a heart-ripping separation. My mind in shock.

Despite myself, I was shaking, trapped in my jail cell of confusion and fear. The contractions and Monica’s _Push!_ led the infernal pace. My hands gripped so roughly at the sheets I didn’t know how they managed to stay in one piece. Guttural grunts and cries came out my mouth. Tears blurred and burned my eyes. My eyes seeking and wandering. Begging. My brows creased, my face tense. My breathing short and shallow but my heartbeat so fast it was ready to explode. Barely catching my breath between contractions. Breathing through tears. And my unstoppable pleas to Monica. _Please, don’t let them take it!_

Nothing could have been more brutal than to powerlessly watch them, their eyes wide open, looking right at us, but not really. And I was just as powerless to slow — let alone stop — the labor, feeling myself gliding closer and closer to the moment where my baby would be stolen right out of my uterus. My body asserting control over my mind, one working against another. One wanting to stop everything at once while the other racing to the finish line. Internal twisting and stabbing. Confusion and conflict. Rationalizing, viewing every aspect of the problem only to realize there was no escape.

I felt his head and shoulders shift and move through my pelvis and I held my breath. The baby cried. My respiration was still on stand-by as my newborn baby fought for his first breaths. I could barely move, barely look at him. Focused on _them_ only and their Goddamn freezing and silent attitude. Zombies. Freaking freaks. Their eyes wide open on to my miracle. My heart pounding. And then, it was all over. Or so I thought. Or just the beginning? I couldn’t tell, overwhelmed by emotions. I heard my name screamed over and over outside the house in the midst of all the confusion of the noise of cars and choppers. For a second I thought there were others, coming for me. Until I realized. Mulder.

 

      “She needs to get to the hospital,” Monica said right before I saw him come in.

 

When he walked in, he blew out a relieved and uneasy sigh. He looked dead-tired (probably I did too) and in shock (that I’m sure I was), some kind of a shocking relief that the baby was right here, wrapped in my arms, or at shock that the baby _actually_ was still right here. He fell on his knees by the bench where I was and leaned his forehead against my shoulder, breathing hard, his hands shaking on my arm. With my free hand I wrapped his shoulders and squeezed the one that was underneath my hand.

 

      “We’re okay, Mulder,” I cried, my breathing trying to slow down.

 

He tilted his face up to meet my eyes with an intense and wetted gaze and cupped my cheeks, leaning over to kiss me eagerly. I felt all the relief and joy in his dry mouth. He pressed his face even closer against mine and deepened the kiss, his thumbs nervous brushing my face. My eyes fluttered shut as I let it all in, warming every inch of my body. So much passion, so much love with a little leftover fear. I couldn’t breathe. Literally. And I pulled back, urgently.

He caressed my face, cupping the nape of my neck and leaned his forehead against mine, both of us settling down our breathing. Then he slightly angled his face to look at the baby. Tears rolled down my cheeks again as I witnessed Mulder become short of breath and carefully pull away the blanket to meet his son’s eyes. He fiercely closed his eyes again and pressed his lips onto mine for a few more seconds.

He was at loss for words (among other things), but to be honest no words of mine could have been equal to expressing feelings or any other thing right this moment. There was no way to rush this moment, even the medical doctor that I was and who should have known better couldn't fight this. A majestic, heavenly moment as a payback for all the deeds of our lives.

 

      “Mulder, she needs to get to a hospital,” Monica gently repeated at the door.

      “Right,” Mulder said, getting up on his still shaking legs. “Agent Reyes can hold the baby, Scully. Can you walk? There’s a chopper waiting right outside.”

      “I don't know,” I answered, unable to gauge the strength I had left.

      “I’ll help you. Agent Reyes?”

 

Monica stepped closer and delicately pulled the wrapped baby up in her arms. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I knew he was safe with Monica and I trusted her completely, but I felt a chill as soon as his little body left my chest.

 

      “I got him, Dana,” she said as if she’d heard me.

      “You ready, Scully?” Mulder asked me before he put my arm over his shoulders and wrapped his own behind my back. “Lean on me.”

 

He pulled me up slowly, securing his own balance by gripping at the metallic bar of the bench, and once I was standing he wrapped the sheet around my waist and pressed me against him. I was dizzy and lightheaded (lighthearted too, for once) and very weak. A hot stream of liquid slipped along my inner thigh. I didn't care and in fact I had forgotten all that I knew about my medical skills. I didn't know if I was at risk of anything. I felt safe in Mulder’s arms, an eye on William in Monica’s care. Mulder was a lot more anxious than I was and kept asking me every second step if I was okay while walking very slowly outside toward our transportation.

 

I sat down in the chopper and Monica, sitting in the front, placed the baby back in my arms while Mulder sat beside me. He took my shoulders and pulled me to lean my back against his chest and he hugged his arms around my chest. I rested the back of my head on his shoulder, tilting my face to the side to touch it with his, feeling the warmth of his cheek against my temple. He pressed his lips there some long seconds as the chopper took off. I knew Mulder wanted to stay strong for me but his hands were still slightly trembling. But despite that, I had never felt this serene in my entire life.

 

We went straight to the hospital and Mulder left eventually, telling me something about scoping out the Super Soldiers or whoever those people were. My mind was elsewhere, all wrapped and filled with rainbow cotton-candy.

Thankfully, he didn’t take too long to come back and he let himself in my apartment just as the Gunmen were on their way out.

 

      “How's everybody doing?” He asked, coming into my bedroom.

      “We're doing just fine.”

 

I stood up and walked to meet him halfway, patting the baby’s back and gazing at Mulder. He looked as calm as I was and I presented him the baby.

 

      “Hey, now,” he whispered to him. The baby started to fuss. “None of that.”

 

I put the baby into his arms, unable to take my eyes off of Mulder. Oh my God, maybe it was hormones again, maybe it was the baby, maybe Mulder, or the feeling of a family, I couldn’t say … Speechless waves of love. All senses with a greater intensity, colors brighter, sounds more resonant and smells more powerful. An intense and searing utter awe. All I could feel was love. Giving out love through every single pore of my skin, tears threatening to push at the edge of my eyes.

 

      “Hi,” he whispered to the baby. “What are you gonna call him?” He asked, his eyes still on the baby.

      “William. After your father.”

      His eyes were back into mine now, lightly smiling, and I smiled back. “Well, I don't know,” Mulder said. “He's got your coloring and your eyes but he looks suspiciously like Assistant Director Skinner.” Soft chuckles.

      “I don't understand, Mulder. They came to take him from us. Why they didn't …”

      “I don't quite understand that either. Except that maybe he isn't what they thought he was. That doesn't make him any less of a miracle though, does it?”

      “From the moment I became pregnant I feared the truth about how and why. And I know that you feared it too.”

      “I think what we feared were the possibilities.”

      “Which is what?”

      “The truth we both know.”

 

He slowly leaned down and laid his lips onto mine. My eyes fluttered shut and I cupped his elbow, William between us, closing the circle of the family.

 

Was is true, though? Had we really _never_ said the words? How was that even possible? I remembered that he had, once. Except at that time, he had just done something recklessly stupid and I had decided he was delusional. Was it really the only time? I couldn’t make myself believe it. We shared a deep, abiding love, taking advantage of every opportunity to hold hands as if always finding one another regardless of ourselves, compelled by some unseen force. We wore each other’s heart like a second skin. We looked at one another with benevolent eyes. We had just had a baby against all odds and deeds borne out of all this, and yet, we had never said those three words? In my heart, it felt like I had heard them over and over again, so many times.

 

      “What can I do?” He asked, parting our lips and looking down at William.

      “You can lay him down in his bassinet, he should be sleepy now.”

      “Okay,” he said while complying. He bent over to look at him for a moment, then he turned around and softly rubbed his hands against his jeans. “Now what?”

      “Now nothing, Mulder,” I said, slowly walking toward him. “Now we rest, now we enjoy and make the most of it.” He nodded. I took his hand with mine and brushed his hair to the back with my other hand. “I love you, Mulder.”

      He pressed my hand against his chest, pulling me closer to him and wrapped his other arm around my shoulders. Then he kissed my cheek and held me tight. “I love you too, Scully.” Eventually, he pulled back and asked, “Do you want me to order something to eat?”

      “No, I think I’ll just rest while the baby sleeps. Oh, and um —”

 

I moved away from him and opened my closet, took his hand again and looked back at him with a mysterious smile.

 

      He smiled too, not understanding. “What?”

      I smiled widely with exaggeration, gesturing my hand toward the closet, then gesturing my head toward the closet, while he kept widening his eyes in wonder. After a few vain attempts, I said, defeated, “Mulder, are you really this blind!? I made room for you.”

      His smile turned into a chuckle and he said, “Yeah, I’d seen that, but you were too cute to give in.”

 

He swiftly pulled me by the hand in a spontaneous dance move, and I ended up pressed against his chest, my arms around his neck and his around my waist. Our mouths connected again in a timeless softness. Shivers ran down my back as our tongues slowly rolled against one another, our lips melting within one another, our kiss warming our hearts and eyes (well, mine anyway) in this exchange of scents, tastes, secrets and emotions. This was the food for the brain, for the heart and for the soul. No wonder I thought we had said “I love you” before tonight.

He cupped my face and inhaled forcefully, as if willing to give himself courage for pulling back.

 

      “Thank you,” he said.

      For a second, I forgot what we were talking about. The closet? Right. Probably. Maybe something else. Whatever it was, “You’re welcome” seemed to fit.

      “I. Love. You.” He looked right into my eyes. I wanted to reply but he covered my mouth with his and breathed in the words out of my mouth. “Get some sleep, Scully. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

      “Where are you going?”

      “I’ll um … go pack a few things.” He smiled.


	11. Extraordinary means to ordinary deeds

What was common to most people was totally new and amazing to me. Like waking to someone special in my bed and listening to his steady breathing while he slept. Hearing the quiet humming of the baby before his hungry cries echoed throughout the rooms as though he had suddenly realized hadn't eaten in days. Or having that special someone gently put the baby by your side to be breastfed in the middle of the night. Having the good smell of fresh coffee hit your nostrils in the morning. Casual things. I guess? Extraordinary things to me.

 

      “Oh my God, Mulder,” I laughed in shock when I saw what _few things_ he had packed somewhere between last night and this morning.

      “I’ll clean up my mess. Promise. I just wanted to have coffee ready for you first.”

      “That’s fine, Mulder,” I said, walking toward the kitchen counter sleepily, stepping across suitcases, boxes, basket balls and … I didn't even wanna know what _that_ was. “So? What’s on your agenda … besides … the obvious?” I asked, sitting down at the kitchen table, staring at his mess and noting for the first time his tank fish had found room on my dresser.

      “Yes, there is _that_. I hope it’s okay.”

      “It’s fine.”

      “I um, figured I would bring more stuff and stay here a bit to help you with William. I mean, I can’t do much (feeding him anyway), but if I can grant you time to rest, do your groceries, prepare some meals or do some laundries for you, you know. Massage you in the shower. Whatever you need.”

      I grinned and asked, “Enlighten me, Mulder, you can do laundry?”

      “Come on, I’ve been living alone for over ten years, give me some credit here.”

      “I always figured you took your clothes to the dry-cleaners.”

      “And I still can do it,” he said brushing my cheek with a kiss and presenting a plate with a cream cheese bagel and a cup of coffee to me.

      I smiled. “And prepare meals?”

      “Take-out.” I laughed and he sat across from me with a mug of coffee. “How are you feeling?”

      “I’m … fine,” I said. He furrowed his brows, making me smile. “No, I really am. I feel like the actual Cheshire cat.”

      “You do have white, beautiful teeth.”

      And laughing again. “I mean, this is perfect. This is surreal.”

      “As in paranormal?” The way he said it, I thought he’d asked me again: _Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?_

      “As in _dream-like_ surreal.”

      “You look happy, Scully.”

      “I am,” I admitted. “And so do you, Mulder.”

      “Yeah,” he said in a whisper.

 

He was touched and touching. I hadn't seen him this peacefully and genuinely happy in … I didn't think I had ever seen him this happy actually. Joyful sometimes, or excited, but not happy. He wiped away a bit of cream cheese at the corner of my mouth and licked his thumb.

 

      “What time does he wake up now?”

      “He just ate and is bathed. So maybe in a couple of hours.” Just as I said it, we heard William start to cry.

      I shifted to stand and Mulder pointed a finger at me. “Be still, my heart,” he ordered and only once I sat back down, he walked to the bedroom.

 

Everything was so comfortable and evident between us that even inwardly I was smiling. I finished my breakfast and headed to the bathroom where I ran myself a nice hot bath.

 

      “It was just a diaper emergency, he’s back to sleep now. Do you mind if I join you?” Mulder asked, peeking his head through the ajar door.

 

He slid behind me in the water and started rubbing my shoulders and back.

 

      “Do you believe this is it?”

      “What is?”

      “The purpose of life?”

      “I would certainly hope so,” I replied, enjoying the massage with just the right amount of pressure.

      “What? No chasing monsters? No uncovering conspiracies? No life-threatening thrills? Could you do that?”

      “Obviously. Couldn't you?”

      “Let me think,” he said, pushing my hair from my neck and kissing the hollow between my shoulder and the base of my neck. I smiled and scooted back against his chest and he folded his arms around me. “It’s not like I have many choices here anyway. I'm unemployed, remember?”

      “When has that ever stopped you?”

      “No, not this time. I'm stuck with you two. Better get used to it, Scully.”

      “I’m … _okay_ with that, Mulder.”

      He tilted my face gently and kissed me. Then he entwined his fingers with mine. “Actually I believe I never thought this endless running could or would eventually stop because there was just no reason to.”

      “And now?”

      “And now, I see no reason not to.”

      “Who are you and what have you done with Mulder?” I smiled and looked at him over my shoulder.

      “Who’s that?” He smiled too.

      “Some guy I like.”

      “Tell me about him.”

      “Well, if you must ask,” I started, squirming to my side to nestle my head in the crook of his elbow to meet his eyes, “he’s … tall and strong. Mysterious and gentle with the right blend of shy and sweet. Generous and caring. He’s got a beautiful mind and a wonderful soul. A beautiful smile too when he’s happy. Some people call him spooky but they just don't know him the way I do. He’s got the most _amazing_ eyes that make me feel safe and loved in every possible ways. And when he kisses me … he makes me feel like a stupid juvenile teenage girl.” I chuckled and nuzzled his chest with my nose.

      “Some guy you _like_ , huh? See now, I have all the reason I need to settle down,” he said before he kissed me. “Plus, I’m confident there are still lots of new mysteries to uncover with a great deal of spooky and crappy cases ahead of us, like that diaper crisis I think I handled perfectly well, thank you very much. That was pretty nasty for such a little guy.”

      I laughed and squeezed his hands and hugged his arms around me. “Thank you.”

      “No problem, I’ve got your back.”

      “As always.”

      “You know how dedicated and recklessly restless I am when a case presents itself to my eyes … or nose.”

      “ _You just want to play house._ ” I grinned. “The water is getting cold …” I shivered.

      “Do you want me to drive you to your mother’s so she can meet her grandson or do you think it’s too early for him to take the wheel?” He asked, stepping out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist and reaching out a hand to me.

      “ _Drive you_ ,” I repeated thoughtfully, taking his hand. He opened the bathrobe, I slid into it and turned around to him. “Drive _us_ , Mulder, _you_ included. I don't know, maybe instead I’ll ask her to come over.”

 

The phone rang. Damn, I had forgotten to take it off the hook. Mulder hurried to pick it up. I expected the call to be for me until I heard him. “Speaking.” It felt odd at first but not completely inexplicable; it could be my mother wanting to talk to him, it could one of the guys, or even Monica or Doggett for all I knew. I closed the bathroom door and gave him a little privacy while I dried myself off. I only exited when I heard his voice rise more than I assumed it would if it were a pleasant call.

 

      “Sir again, who did you get that from? Stop the bureaucratic talk and give me a name.” He looked up at me. His eyes had lost all of the quietness they had just the minute prior. He was unnerved and frustrated. “Sir?” He looked at the receiver and I got that whoever he was talking to had hung up on him.

      “What’s going on?” I asked, sitting next to him. He didn't answer, he stared at the receiver between his hands and put it back. “Who was it?” I asked again, my voice soft but angst growing inside me. He stood up with his back to me, now really scaring me. “Mulder?”

      He turned around. His brows were creased and his jaw clenched. He swallowed and replied, “Deputy Director Kersh.”

      “Kersh? Why? What’s wrong?”

      “Probably nothing,” he said, trying to cheer up.

      It was too late, the deed had been done. I knew him better than that. “Mulder, tell me what he said.”

      “Really, Scully, it’s not important.”

      “Let me be the judge of that.”

      “Jesus, Scully, I see no reason why I should listen to him, I don't work for him anymore. And I see no reason why you or I should abide by his sayings and worry about anything coming from him.”

      I stood and took his hands. “Please.” He looked into my eyes and shook his head. “Dammit Mulder, do you want me to call him to know what you’ve been talking about? Cause I will if you don't start talking. You're freaking me out, so spit it out. Please, Mulder.”

      He sighted and after a moment he started to talk. “He said … He said I would be killed if I stayed.”

      “Wh— What!? By whom?”

      “By the same people who threatened to kill him if he didn't act in accordance with their will.”

      “Who’s that?” I pleaded.

      “He wouldn't say.”

      “Someone inside the FBI?”

      “He didn't say.”

 

So, this was it? Everything was all too perfect to be true apparently. I sat down on the couch heavily. He looked at me, thoughtfully, without knowing what to say. I didn't know what to say either. After a while, he sat next to me and took my hand.

 

      “There’s no need to panic, Scully. Really, it probably means nothing. There’s no need to rush to premature and rash conclusions. Let's call your mom and invite her over for lunch as planned.”

 

I looked over at him. I wanted to avoid rash decisions too, but a threat had yet to be taken into consideration. I nodded and he took the phone.

By noon, Mulder had moved all his suitcases to my room, had gone out to buy ready-to-eat salmon and mashed potatoes and a cake and he had set the table for three. As if he had sensed something coming up, he had been cuddling William for the last thirty minutes. He was supposed to just pat his back and burp him before putting him back to bed, but it took him a lot longer than I expected. After a while, I went to the bedroom to check on them. Mulder was pacing slowly in the room and humming, William asleep in his arms, his little head resting on Mulder's shoulder and Mulder’s nose buried in William’s neck. It was beautiful to watch and heartrending. I took a step back, drinking the moment in, and I closed the door silently without Mulder noticing my intrusion.

 

Lunch with my mother was not enough to cheer things up. Both Mulder and I had Kersh’s warning in mind and a big question mark attached to our immediate future. My mom was all excited of course, taking our low state of mind as tiredness. Mulder’s eyes kept seeking mine and we had our own silent conversations. The more I thought about it, the fewer options presented themselves. Mulder had to disappear. And the more I looked into his eyes, the more I felt he knew it too. I had gone through his funeral already, I couldn’t deal with that again. I looked at my mom. She herself had been separated from my father most of her life every time he was sent somewhere at sea. And she made it all right I supposed. They had loved each other all their life. They had always been reunited. It was now that she was lonely, now that my father had passed. I wanted to be with Mulder more than anything, I wanted him to know he had a family that loved him, I wanted us to grow old and raise this beautiful baby boy together. But I didn’t want me or him watching our backs all the time, I didn’t want us to be paranoid about the simplest noise.

 

      “What is it, honey?” My mother asked.

      “Hmm, I’m just a little tired,” I lied.

      “Yes, that’s a big change, but your time will adjust quickly. You’ll be fine.”

      “Excuse me,” Mulder said, standing up and walking toward the room before I even heard William.

 

I looked at my mom and she gave me a knowing smile. Yes, Mulder was very involved. But pain burst in my chest like a vicious shout of anguish, a storm brewing.

Mulder came back with the child lying in his arms, his little hand curled around Mulder’s pinkie finger. It gave me heartache. It was as if William, too, knew they would soon be parted and he was trying to hold on to his father as long as possible. I knew that was not possible for him to know, but dark clouds still amassed in my mind and heart.

 

      “Oh my God, look at this sweet, sweet little boy,” my mother said as Mulder put the baby in her arms. She looked up at me and then at Mulder. “He’s beautiful. I'm happy for you.”

 

Mulder was still standing and staring at William with a smile. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He briefly looked at me, stepped closer to me and kneeled, steadying himself with his arm folded over my lap, and then his eyes fixed onto William again. I stroked the nape of his neck, trying to hide my nervousness, trying to breathe fully and reassure myself, trying to convince myself this was for the best and only for a short moment of time that would grant us a longer and peaceful future.

 

Later that day, after thinking this over and over again, we were having dinner when I told Mulder what I believed we should do. Mulder understood the seriousness of my words only when I mentioned he would have to bring his furniture to the Gunmen’s.

 

      “You cannot be serious,” he said.

      “I am.”

      “Scully, I can’t. I don’t wanna do that. I’m not gonna do it,” he said, pushing his plate in the middle of the table.

      “It’s not what I want either, Mulder. What do you think? That I want you out just after I’ve just got you back? Just after William was born?”

      “Good, so let’s agree on _that_.”

      “Mulder, if any of this is true, —”

      “If _none_ of this is,” he cut me off, standing up from his chair, “I’d be leaving you two for nothing.”

      “I don't want to take the chance.”

      “And neither do I! How … Why do think any of this would be true? Why do you take his word for it? Why do you _trust_ him?” He started pacing in the room.

      “What has he got to gain?”

      “Oh, I don’t know, Scully, maybe my being out of DC, out of his life for good, he can finally put an end to the X-Files for example.”

      “Not when Doggett is investigating him.”

      “And then what?” He slapped his hands on the table. He realized his voice was too high with the baby sleeping and started again, almost as a whisper and stared down at me. “And then what? What happens when Doggett hands over his conclusions?”

      “Mulder, I don’t know if this is true. I hope it’s not. But for the sake of argument, I want you to agree with me and to go into hiding. If it’s all BS, if he closes the X-Files, if I suspect anything, if I have the slightest doubt about his motives, then you can come back to us. No harm done.”

      “Scully —” He exhaled and started walking again.

      “Mulder, I _don’t want_ to push you away. I don’t want you gone. God help me, you know it’s true. But, please, what I don’t want even more is losing you again, and for good. That’s the only reason I’m begging you to disappear for a while.”

      “This is ridiculous, Scully, I honestly don't understand. I don't get it. Really.” He finally sat again in front of me. “I’ve been threatened before. You’ve been threatened before. We managed all right together. We always managed all right ’cause we were _together_. What changed?”

      “Maybe _William_ changed things.”

 

He looked at me in silence, out of arguments. It was worse when he was silent than when he was fighting. Because as much as I felt it was the best course of action, somewhere inside me, I was hoping he’d convince me that this whole thing was the worst idea I had ever had. I was hoping he’d fight against my judgement, he’d fight for this family. I knew what he was thinking, too well-behaved to say it out loud. _Why don't you come along? Why don't we run, all three of us, together? As we’ve always done? As any family probably would?_ Say it, Mulder. Say it, dammit!

 

      “How long?” He finally asked after a while.

      “Maybe a couple of months. The time for the whole thing to settle down, for _them_ to forget you.”

      “And what if they try to get to you? Scully, I can’t —”

      “They already did, Mulder. If anything was going to happen, it would have happened when I gave birth.” He nodded and became silent again. I took his hand and squeezed it. “We _will_ see each other again soon, Mulder. I’m sure of it. We’ll be together again. It’s the safest way. We can prearrange everything now. How you can come back and where, and when. Ensure your safe passage home.” The silence got our minds to wander into the details we had never wanted to know, how, what and where … Our eyes locked to one another but our mouths remained sealed. “Please, say something.”

      “I don’t what to say, Scully. Everything seems to be all set. You’ve already made up your mind, haven't you?”

      “God, no. Don’t make it sound like I’m chasing you out of my life.” I squeezed his hand again, but he didn’t squeeze back.

      “Aren’t you?” He snapped, immediately regretting his words and raising his hand apologetically.

      “Mulder —” I pleaded, covering my mouth with my hand, feeling my eyes getting moist and my heart breaking into a million pieces.

      “I’m sorry, Scully. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh or nasty. I know I have no right over you, let alone no right over William, but God … It’s me who’s um … For the first time, _this_ feels right, this feels home and I just want to be here with —” his voice died away and there was another heavy silent. Then he exclaimed, “Jeez, Dana, you really wanna do this? After only one or two days?”

      I came around the table and wrapped his shoulders. “It’s breaking my heart too, Mulder, saying words that hurt you as much as they hurt me.”

      “I know.”

      “Okay, look, so we’ll all go; you, me and William,” I decided. If Mulder wasn't going to say it, I would.

      He looked at me, considered it for a short moment and he strongly refuted it. “No. No way. You said it yourself: they’re not after you. If _they_ exist, I don't want you anywhere near them. You can’t go.” For the first time, he seemed to ease a little, realizing there was no other option. He gritted his teeth and looked up at me.

      “I do feel like _I’m_ the one pushing you away and I hate myself for it, but I see no other way to keep you safe. I see no other way to _be_ with you.”

      “I know.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I just hope —”

      “What?”

      “I just hope I don't miss too many of his first times. You know, first tooth, first steps, first … UFO sighting.”

      I laughed softly. “Hopefully, you won't be gone that long, Mulder. Or we’ll be the ones to track your butt.”

 

He nodded again with a soft smile. Usually, the silence fitted us. But at this moment, it didn't and I could feel my limbs already tensing in an attempt to counteract the wrench that threatened to engulf me. As if trying to jolly me up, his hands stroked my back in gentle circles while my fingers ran through his hair.

 

      He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to relax. He pressed his face against my chest. “I’ll miss you, both,” he muttered under his breath.

      “We’ll miss you too, Mulder.”

      “No, I was … talking to these,” he said, smiling softly and kissing my breasts. I laughed, silently blessing him for breaking the ice, and rested my chin on the top of his head, feeling him hugging me closer. “No but really, I’ll miss both of you.” I pulled back, looking at where his eyes were watching and smiled. “What?” He looked at me with questioning eyes.

      “Just checking who you’re talking to.”

      He smiled. “I’m talking to you, Scully.”

      “I see that now.”

      “I love you both so much.”

      “And you know we love you.”

 

That night with Mulder reminded me of the last one we had shared in Oregon before he had been abducted. Him spooning me, pressing himself as close as could be onto my back, and me nestled against his warmth, our legs entwined and my hands curled around his arms like William had curled his around Mulder’s finger. There were no words that could soothe or ease the pain. They had all been said. They all had been known for a long time now. If our thoughts were visible, if our words could be tangible for this very moment, there would be an explosion, crazy chaotic turns and erratic twists of light all coming together and damaging the one we loved most. Only warmth of our locked bodies remained, hope of a gathering to the ones we held dearest, like a little blue stain, insulting and provocative, daring the sun to pierce through the dark clouded sky.

After only a few hours of sleep, Mulder spent the next day making arrangements, emptying his apartment and finding something for William to remember him by: a star-themed crib mobile.

And on the next morning, William cried. Mulder was in the shower and William cried as if he knew something wasn't right.

Mulder held me in his arms for what felt like eternity like he had just done with his son.

Just holding me still and tight against him one last time, steadying my confusion, his chin hooking the top of my head for my ear to settle against his beating heart. Wordlessly. Trusting that this was for the best. After only two little days of a family. After the heaviness in my stomach made me question myself one more time, whether or not I should take William and run with Mulder as far as the road would lead us, and not lose him again. But confident that our lives and love were intermingled in the most glorious mess, our souls linked by an unwavering bridge where we would meet again soon. Confident this was the surest way to be together, the surest way to a peaceful life of love, waiting for the happy ending to finally shine without any flaws, without any shades.

And then, Mulder was gone.


	12. Burden of unrelenting sorrow and entwined fates

Okay, so here we were again. Alone. I couldn't pinpoint the context, however, Mulder's voice echoed in my mind: _More loneliness! And then 365 more shopping days till even more loneliness!_ Hopefully it wouldn't be that long. Plus, I wasn't being fair to myself; I wasn't alone. But I was worried about Mulder and I hated it. I hated, too, that I had no one to confide to, and worse, that I had to freeze everyone I loved and trusted out of my life to keep Mulder safe, and hurt them in the process with my hermetically sealed behavior. Doggett first in line. Despite what he believed and repeated, I trusted John, but I just couldn't take any risk. I was very decided this time that I would not let my loneliness rule my emotions.

Yet, I walked in a daze as every day brought its new share of discovery. Not in the good way. The stars of William’s mobile that were supposed to be the nice reminder of Mulder's starlight happened to become instead a permanent intruder into my serenity, into my faith in my son’s normalcy.

William's telekinesis, his powers or abilities or whatever I should have called them frightened me and disputed my most intimate beliefs. Doubts fogged my confidence, crumbled my certainties, fading away the bright colors of my first days as a mother, as I sought the answers I dreaded to discover. I couldn't admit my fears about William, not to Doggett, certainly not to Mulder who would have come rushing back or anyone else. Not to me. At least not at first, not until I could admit to myself that the truth was impossible for me to uncover alone. And if it weren’t for John and Monica, I wouldn’t have gained access to the horrifying evidence of manipulation of ova on a now abandoned ship. Oh my God, what had they done … Had my ova been manipulated? Was my name on those tags? Emotions were what made us humans, and there was no humanity in this enterprise.

 

Since I had started working with Mulder, I had begun to realize that something had been awfully wrong with this planet, that we had taken the wrong turn somewhere along the road. The air had become putrid. Some men greedy and hideously insane. And somewhere along the road, I had found myself more and more needy and anchoring to Mulder’s pure spirit. Even back when I had been ill with cancer, parted from him, I had felt the urge to write to him without him knowing it, to keep anchored to him, one way or another.

Since he had gone, we had kept in touch, writing to each other. Reassuring one another than we were still out there and waiting. Surviving on the other's strength and longing love, keeping our bond unswerving. Yet, on my part, avoiding sharing my recent findings about William.

 

      _I've resisted contacting you for reasons I know you continue to appreciate. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Dana uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to William._

 

It had been a couple of months since Mulder had left, about the amount of time we had assumed the necessary retreat would have lasted. And I could feel now all the despair and serious deprivation he was suffering from. It was obvious to me that loneliness had been eating away at him and that he had held back how he really felt for some time. It was painful. For him. For me. But it was _real_. The feelings were real.

I held dearly to his words, unshed tears stinging my eyes. Refused to lose it again. I reminisced about some happier moments in the past. Our past. And there had been genuine happy moments. Like that one night. That night I believed William had been conceived. It had been different that night.

Mulder had made his final wish, and yet, not to my understanding, he had seemed in a blue funk a little, only _fairly_ happy. When I had pushed him, he had simply said that he had set the genie free. _Caddyshack_ had kept playing in the background more as a sound than to really entertain us, as we talked instead about what the genie had told him. _I’d wish that I could live my life moment by moment, enjoying it for what it is instead of worrying about what it isn’t. I’d sit down somewhere with a great cup of coffee, and I’d watch the world go by._ With the couple of years’ hindsight, Mulder had possibly been pained because he had had only one wish left and three impossible choices: regaining his health, granting me motherhood, and setting the genie free. But he hadn’t said it. He had been calm and peaceful and fairly happy.

Whatever he hadn’t wanted to tell me then, his eyes had gotten darker than the night, and the way we had sex had felt like I had been silencing his demons.

He had led me to his room all the while undressing me, and his hands and mouth had been all over my naked body. His mouth had barely left mine, thereby making us struggle for air. Literally in lack of breath. There had been something bold, panting, almost desperate, as in flailing for something to clutch to, to save himself or _ourselves_ from a horrible fate or from whatever the world had become. It had been us against the world, his fingers tightly interweaved with mine. He had laid on his back, pulling me to him and he had gripped my butt harshly. I had rocked my body up and down against his in response, bent down, my breasts rubbing his chest. Each of our movements toward each other had brought us to a deeper breathlessness. The sound of my butt slapping into his groin had mixed with our moans and groans in each other’s mouth. It had been an overflowing surging of love that even this very act could barely keep up to express. He had dug into my flesh with his mouth, with his fingers, with his sex. His heart and soul too. So raw. So intense. As if he had wished to himself grant me my will. Grant _us_ a miracle. Although I had no doubt about Mulder’s paternity, it was my own ova I now doubted.

 

The Shadow Man resonated in my mind, pushing away my racing thoughts. _Mulder needs to know what I know or he may have no future. Perhaps no one will._ What the hell was that supposed to mean? _No one_ as in mankind? As in Mulder would be some kind of a savior? Did it have something to do with Mulder coming back from the dead last year? No, it couldn’t. Mulder had been saved, I was sure of it.

 _Mulder must die. Mulder or your son._ What? Why?? The Shadow Man convulsed, covered with metal and he was pulled by an unseen force into the ground behind me. I could not begin to understand what had just happened and how William was linked to all this. _Who_ was William? Who were these babies really, William or this NSA couple’s?

I was scared for Mulder, and for William. The forces against us were unrelenting but so was my determination to see Mulder again, to regain the comfort and safety we had shared for so brief a time. I was nonetheless in a hellish kind of isolation that seemed only to be calling out more questions as time passed and kept Mulder and I apart. And there were so many of them. …

 

What was the boundary not to cross before sanity failed you?

How did you even unravel the mere act of giving birth?

 

Every threatening event seemed to be only calling on the next. The danger William was in seemed completely out of proportion compared to how harmless he looked. He was just a baby … When I looked into his deep blue eyes, all I could see was a beautiful little boy with no other will but to smile and be loved. And I was willing to soldier on with every ounce of strength I had and to do everything in my power to make that happen. I realized there was nothing more ferociously life-and-death concerned than a mother’s determination to protect her child when I shot Agent Comer after he had tried to kill my baby.

Undercover FBI Agent Comer claimed that Josepho, an ex-military converted to an alien cult leader, believed William was a _prophet_ , that he wanted to protect him because William was a future savior, coveted by forces of both good and evil. According to this prophecy, William would follow his father’s path: to fight colonization alongside him and defeat the aliens’ return unless his father was killed, in which case William would assist the aliens and lead the invasion of Earth.

I closed my eyes and tried to process all this. Tried to forget that if Comer had wanted to kill William, it meant he trusted Mulder was dead. I could feel the fear in my gut, ambushed, ready to take over. And Mulder wasn’t here anymore to watch my back. And the second I stopped looking over my shoulder, William was kidnapped.

I must say that no matter how traumatic William’s abduction was, it allowed me to fill some blanks. I wasn’t sure I knew what to do with these so-called answers, but they had the merit of existing.

I understood Kersh's warning now. These evil forces, these Super Soldiers like the Shadow Man, were well nestled inside the FBI, the NSA and maybe above that, on a greater rung of power.

I understood why Billy Miles and the other _replicants_ had witnessed William’s birth and had let us alone. They had not wanted to take him or hurt him; they had been there to protect him, believing William would become their leader. The Shadow Man had known the prophecy and he had lied to me: he had wanted me to smoke Mulder out of his hole only to kill him in order to protect the prophecy for the aliens.

 

Oh my God.

It all made sense now.

The threat on William’s life was coming from humans, from those who knew and believed this prophecy. Not aliens. Humans. Like Agent Comer.

 

The greater picture was gathering together all the missing pieces of my puzzled mind. While aliens were after Mulder to isolate him from his son, _our_ son, humans were after William, assuming Mulder dead.

I barely recognized myself, thinking those thoughts. Nine years ago, I would have laughed at myself for saying such things. But what was I supposed to believe when I found my kidnapped child to be the only survivor among flames and entirely burnt bodies?

 

And what were my options, my next move to protect my son? How many other cults of Josepho’s kind were there? Should I have gone into hiding, too? Look how it ended up for Mulder. Oh, Mulder … William’s protector and endangerer. I would never acknowledge his death so easily though. But if he was alive, then his life was still threatened, and the three of us were far from being reunited any time soon.

My head and heart started to ache. I was exhausted.

I wondered if Mulder had figured the so-called prophecy out. I prayed. Bringing out new questions that I had not suspected: who was this God that I had been talking to my whole life? I mean, if the very writings of the Bible, the Koran or the Torah came from aliens themselves, who had I been talking to? Had I been searching for God all this time in the wrong place?

I tried to make the connection with the ancient writings on the African spaceship, and those on the one Josepho had found.

 

      “Dana, God has given you a miracle. A child that wasn't supposed to be. Maybe it's not to question … just to be taken as a matter of faith.” My mother said.

      “Mom, I can't take this on faith. I need to know. I need to know if it's really God I have to thank.”

 

Let’s talk extreme possibilities. Was I to believe my son was God’s will as my mother had suggested? Jesus’ father, Joseph, had been warned in a dream to take Mary and his son to Egypt, to escape Herod's plan to kill Jesus. Was there a similitude with my own story? Then how was I supposed to kill whoever Herod was in this century so that my family could move back home together again? God had chosen not to tell us much about Jesus’ childhood, so we had to trust Him that nothing had occurred which we needed to know about. And I wished that were the case for William, too.

Did I actually believe William was either a prophet or an alien?

Isaiah had prophesied that a pure young woman would have given birth to God's son.

Who had prophesied William in this battle of good and evil? Why and how was it believed? Could it have been written, too, on those space crafts alongside the biblical words?

 

I took William from his crib, leaned back in my sofa, and held him close against me, my lips and nose pressed against his soft little head. I soothed his back slowly with my hand.

He was my son. _My_ son. My throat constricted when I thought of the few times I had doubted him. He had never asked to be put into this world. Only _I_ had. He had been born in a hurricane and its remnants were now knocking at the door and making the shutters shake outside the house. And now that I did have him, I was more lost than even. I wished my arms thus wrapped around his small and vulnerable body, caring and loving, were enough to protect him from whoever would come next. To protect him from men’s madness. I wished he felt my arms as reassuring of my love as I felt about Mulder's. I wished Mulder was here to tell me what to do. How could I calm the hurricane down into a nice summer breeze? How could I offer him a quiet and peaceful home when I wasn't able to settle such a place for myself?

I inhaled him deeply, taking him all in, my face buried in the crook of his neck and my nose tickled by his soft hair. There was nothing like a baby smell. Since Mulder had gone away, I’d taken long, greedy sniffs at William while cradling him in the dark. That smell, each time, resetting my batteries, easing me and soothing me instantly. Shushing my brain from all these questions, each one of them more anguishing than the last.

I called for the sign that was supposed to be there, somewhere, for me to pay attention to. I called for God to protect my child and grant him a simpler life. I called for Mulder’s protection. And I burst into tears.

I spit and swore at those sons of bitches who had experimented on me. I suddenly felt short of breath when I thought about Emily, too. _Whoever brought this child into this world didn't intend to love her._ I had intended to love her and I intended to love him dearly, too. I loved him more than my life. But now I couldn’t help but wonder if William was like Mulder had described Emily; _a miracle that was never meant to be._ Was I here to _save_ him, too? Was that all I was meant to be when it came to children? I had had to watch Emily die. What other horrible thing was I supposed to do now to save William? Couldn't I love my children, be with them, raise them and grow old with them like every other mother? Couldn’t I silence the hideous reign of terror, just for a moment?

 

I had seen my share of the hideous of the disgusting and the repellent alright. But I had not been prepared for this disfigured Daniel Miller. I didn’t know what he wanted from me or who he was, but I knew he wasn’t Mulder. No matter what John or even Monica believed, no matter what the DNA results said. You knew a person in so many ways; ways that a test couldn’t even begin to know. As disturbing as it was, as confusing, as stressful as it was, Mulder would have told me when I pressed him to tell me his name. He wouldn’t have been ashamed, he wouldn’t have been afraid, regardless of how defaced he was. Mulder knew that there was no judging. But even if that was Mulder, I wouldn't have cared. Nevertheless, the son of a bitch played with my feelings and tricked me to get to William.

When I rushed into the ER, fearing for William, I wondered how many other wackos I was willing to bear before it was too late. What had Jeffrey Spender injected my son with? Was this going to be my life? Or his? Pondering if the next stranger that would walk into our life was going to be yet another believer of that prophecy? _Your son … your child is part alien,_ had Spender said. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I had all the reasons to believe this crap, too. How long would it take for me to accept that my child was different? That he was not _normal_. That no matter how hard I tried to protect him, I mishandled it. How much more time did I have until William would share Emily’s fate?

 

      “There's an elevated amount of iron in his blood but other than that, your son is completely normal,” Doctor Edwards said.

 

Realization dawned on me. It made perfect sense. Injecting William with a form of magnetite voided his abilities, rendering him a _normal_ child.

 

      “So, it's over. They'll let him be”, I pleaded to Spender.

      “It'll never be over. They'll always know what he was. They'll never accept what he is.”

      “Well, I can protect him.”

      “And if you can't? Look at me … what they did. Is this what you want for your son?”

 

Faith had become my only refuge to keep William safe. But when I prayed and pictured Mary standing by the cross of Jesus … I didn’t _have_ her courage. When Jesus, nailed to the cross, had seen his mother, he had said, _“Woman, behold, your son!”_ I could never stand that. I could never stand still and watch William being taken away and hurt and used.

 

      “I know it's impossible to stop thinking about what he said about William, but it's all lies, Dana, and you were the one who proved it,” Monica gently said as I was thoughtfully bent over William’s crib.

      “And how should I prove it now? By insisting that I can protect him? Only to learn too late that I can't?”

 

I thought about Emily again. I had been too late for her, but I wasn’t too late now.

I would take the bad as long as I remembered the good. I bled with emotion. Crying my heart out for Mulder too that he would ever understand and forgive me for this most unspeakable act. And hoping that someday, somehow, one way or another, he and I would be rewarded and comforted that it was the right thing to do. That someday, _I_ could fight back for all that had been taken from me, from us. I had probably made some wrong decisions in the past, but I wouldn’t be wrong on such an important matter, would I? Most certainly William was very special in way that surpassed all imagination. And maybe if that were the case, hopefully, though the seasons may change, his connection to Mulder and I would remain and be so strong that somehow he would be pulled back to us. You hear me, Fox?

The sense of certainty I felt shocked me. Was it reckless of me to trust two complete strangers with my baby, to trust that he would never have to be afraid of anyone or anything?

After accommodations to a secured and secret process had been made, I had no choice but to steel my heart, walk away and not look back, promise myself to never ask what-ifs and firmly trust that God would not ask for than I was capable of giving.

I drowned in my own tears, the excruciating pain in my chest crippling me and making breathing barely bearable, a breathable surface barely within reach. The love I felt was so intense, it was impossible to grasp. I felt my heart ripped right out of my chest. I was torn in a whirlwind of hope, guilt, gratitude, fear and remorse, that was swaying my body limp like a lifeless puppet.

There was only _one_ way to prevent William from being ripped away. Only one way to keep him safe. The very same way I had pushed Mulder away, too, over half a year ago, a century ago. Make him disappear. To the most isolated family, far from civilization, far from technologies, from anything that I could know, from my knowledge. Far from everything. Ergo out of harm’s way. The hardest decision I’d ever made. Give my heart away. Give him up.


	13. Disconsolateness, solace and hope

The cell was plunged into darkness as I was lying naked on the cold floor. The door violently opened to my torturer, and I covered my eyes from the sudden bright light.

 

      After the guard had asked me what I was thinking for the hundredth time, I questioned him, “What should I be thinking?” to avoid a new hit of his baton or another kick of his boots.

      “You’re a guilty man. You entered a government facility illegally in search of non-existent information! You failed in every respect!”

      “Yes,” I whispered.

      “Say it!” He yelled, raising his baton above his head, ready to beat me.

      “I’m a guilty man. I failed in every respect. I deserve the harshest punishment for my crime.”

 

He lowered his arm and I breathed out, closing my eyes and nervously shaking. He walked out, satisfied with himself, and darkness invaded the room again. The little stubble that I slowly rubbed on my chin made me wonder how many days it had been since I had been detained and brainwashed. I pulled myself up to sit upright, bracing my back against the wall, and waited for my eyes to adjust to dimness. If I had been convincing enough, I would be moved to a cell with a view.

Guards may have hammered my mind and beaten me, but I was still thinking about my son and his mother. It was the only rational thought that could prevent me from sinking. Scully had sent me a picture of William once when he was about two months old. He was growing into a beautiful boy.

Over the months, I had dreamed so many times about my son that I felt as if I knew him, felt him in every possible way, almost like a second skin. William was as real as the dozen of ghosts who’d come to visit me more and more often as loneliness grew deeper within me. Except William was very much alive, I knew it in my gut. I could feel the smoothness of his flawless skin, smell the fresh scent of his velvet blond hair, hear his soft snoring as he slept (and drooled, like his mother) over my shoulder, feel the fast and steady beat of his heart under my palm, and see the amazing pool-colored blue of his eyes. His mother’s. Scully and William were very real, beautiful and strong, very close to me, but I missed their warmth. Their absence was aching, it was making the raw pain all the worse, but it was still the only thing that helped me fight for oxygen.

 

I looked over at the passenger seat. Scully was sound asleep. I thought I had been living in hell for the last year. But she … I let go of the wheel with my right hand to put it lightly upon her thigh, careful not to wake her up, and turned my head back toward the road. Although it was night, although I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in maybe over a year, I wasn’t that tired anymore. The humming noise of the wheels on the road, the soft sound of her steady breathing as she slept, the sweet perfume: all these familiar things felt like coming home.

 

      “I smelled you coming, Clarice.”

 

I crossed to her and cupped her face to crush into her mouth. My eyes fluttered shut and my thumbs stroked her cheeks. She cupped my head, too. I didn’t care that Skinner was there. I just wanted her, and I could feel the air crackling with electricity. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I threw myself into her arms, pulling her close against me to be morphed into a single whole, nuzzling my nose in her neck. She smelled so good, so fresh, so feminine. A scent so familiar that I had missed so badly. The warmth of a heart that came to heat up my cold carcass.

 

I turned to look at her again, and subconsciously brushed her thigh with my thumb over the fabric of her pants. I had made her life a misery and yet she kept running back to me like the arrow of a compass sharply spinning, unable to stay away from its North. She had just given up her life, everything for me. What had I done to deserve her? I honestly didn’t have the answer to that question. I hadn’t done much that I was particularly proud of. With her anyway. It was quite the opposite actually. A part of me wanted to run away from her, as far away as possible where it would be impossible for her to find me again, and another part couldn’t. Not selfishly speaking, but on the contrary, selflessly. _Mulder, I’m so scared that I’ve just had you back and now I’m gonna lose you again._ Regardless of how I felt for her, of how much I loved and needed her, a part of me was intimately convinced her affection and attachment for me was even greater and deeply anchored than my own. And if I _really_ were to disappear again, only to allow her to have a normal life, she couldn’t do it, not anymore. _You have no idea what’s already been lost, what I’ve had to do._ She would just slowly and agonizingly drown.

 

      “Mulder,” Skinner sighed.

      “Don’t worry, Skinner. It’ll be okay.”

      “It’s not that. I mean, it is. But there’s something else,” he said, his eyes dropping to stare at his shoes.

      I looked at him. He was searching his words. “What?”

      “You should know … You _must_ know —” His voice died away.

      “Skinner?” I pressed him.

      “Let me figure out how to tell you this, okay?”

      “Tell me what?”

      Skinner swallowed and stared at me silently, pained.

      “Something happened,” I said as an acknowledgment rather than a question.

      Skinner nodded.

      “Scully? What?”

      He shook his head. “William —”

      _I'm having lancinating pain in my chest. My motor functions are being affected. My pulse is thready … a funny taste in the back of my throat …_ Scully’s description rushed in my head, fitting my state. I stared at him and searched his eyes. “No,” I pleaded, my throat constricting so tightly it felt like someone was strangling me.

      “She had to give him up to adoption.”

      “No,” I implored, tears burning my eyes and my fists clenching, whitening my knuckles, as I struggled for control.

 

A scene displayed in my head, pushing Skinner out of my sight. William was about a little less than a year old. I never was good at guessing ages, especially at babies. I was sitting in the grass on the top of a hill and William was standing between my bent legs, his hands firmly gripping both of my thumbs and his back at me. It was the end of a summer afternoon, nice and warm with a little breeze.

 

      “This is the best spot in the area, William. When you’re a little bigger, I’ll take you out when it’s night,” I looked at him. “But not today or your mommy’s going to kill me.”

      William turned his head to look at me. I freed one of my thumbs, wrapped his stomach with my arm and pulled him gently against my chest.

      “She’s already shot me once, you know. You don’t want to mess with your mother. But she’s the most amazing woman, very patient and very understanding, too.” I kissed his cheek. “We’ll just have to lie to her. Just a little lie. We’ll tell her we’ll go shooting stars sighting. I’m sure she’ll want to come too.” I leaned over, resting my chin above his little shoulder, my cheek against his. “But what we’ll be really looking for is spaceships.” I looked up at the sky; it was still too bright to see any stars. “Come on now, let’s go home buddy,” I said, pulling him up in my arms as I stood up.

 

      “His life had been repeatedly threatened. He had been targeted and put in grave physical danger multiple times, Mulder. Kidnapped, injected with an unknown substance, and Scully had to shoot a man who tried to suffocate him in his crib,” Skinner continued.

      “No,” I cried again in a nearly soundless whimper. “No!” I said forcefully, clamping my teeth tight and trying to push the wall with my bare fists, my blood boiling in my veins.

      “Mulder, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me away from the wall.

 

My heartbeat pulsed in my temples like the timer on a bomb. My legs gave way and I sat on the floor, trembling. My hand swept the hard floor, looking for the grass that wasn’t here anymore. Neither was William. Skinner knelt and kept talking.

 

      “She had no other way, Mulder. The stalking would have continued.” He paused, staring at me with uncomfortable eyes, unable to know what to do to take the bags of lead off of my shoulders. “I’m only telling you this myself because she is just as damaged as you are. I’m only telling you so the both of you can be prepared when the topic comes up.”

 

I nodded again. Limp and dull, I was at a loss for words. Even if I had opened my mouth, my voice would have deadened in dread. After a heavy silent moment, Skinner squeezed my shoulder and left his hand there for a minute.

 

      “I’m sorry, Mulder.”

 

Skinner exited, taking one last look at me before he closed the door and there was no sound in the cell. Yet, in my head was an awful din. A buzzing noise as though every cell of my brain was vibrating, not in a pleasant way. It was as if I had been hit by a car; I felt outside my body. I moved my hand up and waved it in front of my eyes, but I didn’t recognize it, I didn’t acknowledge my own action. My body was not mine. I was on autopilot and my brain was losing connection to the control gear. I had the sensation of living a dream (read: a nightmare). Nothing around me seemed real. My eyes had stopped crying. The pain I felt a minute prior with Skinner had … gone. Was I crazy? _No sleeping! NO SLEEPING!_ The guard yelled in my head again. I wanted to sleep. I was weary, beat. I desperately needed to get home, to reach the safety of what I once knew and knew to be real, to touch reality so that this terrible feeling of disembodiment would stop. I had had a blanket of hope once. All I felt now was a leaden blanket of fatigue weightily draped over my body. I wanted home. I wanted where my heart was.

I laid down, clasping my hands between my thighs, and dulled my emotional hurting with sleep.

 

      “Mulder, it’s me,” Scully woke me quietly, gently brushing my shoulder with her hand.

      “Is it time to go?”

 

_Our son, Mulder. I gave him up._ Scully cried in my arms, tightly gripping my shoulders as if to prevent her from sinking further down.

My jaw tightened. I withdrew my hand from her lap and I gripped the steering wheel with both hands to let the dagger finish his horrible stabbing job in my gut. It was making my breathing a struggle. I leaned over toward the wheel to try and make the position more comfortable but the throbbing pain wouldn’t pass. So, I slowed the car a little as I concentrated on my breathing.

 

      “Hey, don’t forget this. Relax the back, breathe in, breathe out,” I joked, pushing a cushion under my sweater to look like every other pregnant woman.

      “How do you know all these things, Mulder?” Scully smiled.

      “I’m unemployed. I have a lot of time on my hands. Oprah. I watch a lot of Oprah,” I quipped.

 

My respiration slowly evened and the stabbing decreased to a punching, softening as I stayed focused on my breathing. I looked over at Scully; the slower motion of the car had not awakened her. It was better this way. It was better that Scully wouldn’t know how much it affected me, how much I was desperate that we were orphans of our child. She could never know. If she had any idea how I felt, it would have made her suffering even worse. She would have believed I blamed her, and it wasn’t the case. If someone was to blame, it was me. I should never have agreed to leave her alone when William was just born.

 

      “You’ve never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?”

      “No, I guess I have, uh … found more necessary things to do with my time than slap a piece of horsehide with a stick.”

      “Get over here, Scully.”

      “This my birthday present, Mulder? You shouldn’t have.”

      “This ain’t cheap. I’m paying that kid ten bucks an hour to shag balls. Hey, it’s not a bad piece of ash, huh? The bat, talking about the bat. Now, don’t strangle it. You just want to shake hands with it. _Hello, Mr. Bat. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. — Oh, no, no, Ms. Scully. The pleasure’s all mine._ Okay, now, we want to... we want to go hips before hands, okay? We want to stride forward and turn. That’s all we’re thinking about. So, we go hips … before hands, all right?”

 

First base with G-Woman. No pun intended. Okay, that was easy. Just remember the good. Let the rest of the world just fade away, all the everyday, nagging concerns. Just like that. With a snap of the fingers, the darkness could turn into light. As could the new dawn awakening this very moment. All I needed to do was to choose on which side I wanted to be. And like the genie had once said, live my life moment by moment.

I pulled over. I bent across the console and kissed the cheekbone of the incredible woman sitting and sleeping next to me again.

 

      “Hey, hot shot! You might have the common courtesy of doing your business there downwind,” Frohike said.

      “Why don’t you just finish draining the little lizard and then we’ll talk?” Langly asked.

      “We’re very worried about you,” Byers said.

      “It’s craziness, man. Turn around.”

      “Just hang a big U-ie and never look back.”

      “I can’t,” I admitted.

      “Why risk perfect happiness, Mulder? Why risk your lives?”

      “Because I need to know the truth.”

      “You already know the truth.”

 

With a series of keystrokes, I managed to clear the main computer terminal screen from its encrypted nonsense. The correct access code entered, all encrypted data decoded in front of my eyes, and the truth about the alien invasion on December 2012 displayed.

 

      “I need to know if I can change it.”

      “Change it?” Langly asked.

      “For crying out loud. All you’re going to do is get yourself killed,” Frohike said.

      “That man is your future,” Scully’s voice echoed in my head. “Listening only to himself, hoping to catch a glimpse of the truth, for who knows what reason.”

 

Scully was still sleeping against the passenger door. Three days that we had been changing location every day or night. Sometimes, nice guys offered their friend a pleasant baseball evening, but sometimes they just needed to protect the one they loved from themselves. I just didn’t know how to do that: protect her from me. But the more I drove, the more I knew she didn’t belong in this car. It was like a vicious cycle impossible to break. It had been a long time actually that I’d felt our very lives together felt like this vicious cycle.

 

      “You don’t have to hear this,” I told her, turning around in the cave and inviting her to do so, too.

      “No, I want to hear it, Mulder.”

      “Ten centuries ago the Mayans were so afraid that their calendar stopped on the exact date that my story begins,” the cigarette smoking son of a bitch said. “December 22, the year 2012. The date of the final alien invasion. Mulder can confirm the date. He saw it at Mount Weather … where our own _Secret Government_ will be hiding when it all comes down.”

 

I couldn’t just accept defeat there and admit that were true, that there was nothing to be done, nothing to reverse it. This wasn’t fate. I couldn’t and wouldn’t just sit still, cross my legs and convince myself that everything was going to be alright. But Scully, though. I had no right to ask her to follow me on this new crusade of mine. Why wasn’t I able to listen to Frohike? Why risk perfect happiness?

 

      “You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant … my touchstone.”

 

Scully had been all I had been waiting for. I was conflicted with my emotions. And one year of loneliness had not helped me calm the rushing stream of my thoughts. I had shown over and over that I would have done anything in the world to keep Scully safe — or I thought I had — but I realized now it was from me she needed protection. It was only me that had drowned her so deep down. She had helped me come back to the surface when I was drowning but I hadn’t realized that to do so she had been unable to swim in the turbid water, my weight too heavy for her to carry. In my own desperate scramble to the surface for air, I hadn’t noticed that I had inexorably pushed her further and further down.

 

      “The truth will save you, Scully. I think it’ll save both of us.”

 

I wished it would. And yet, with a great love came great responsibilities, and they were mine to take.

Scully was awake. We were still in the car though I couldn’t say what day it was or how long we’d been driving. I looked at her. She was wearing her dark dress shirt and I had a white one. Okay, this was day on the run. She and I were silent. And distant, too. She was sitting over there, at the right end of the car while I stared at the road. Just driving. Driving to nowhere, but driving. On the run. I was a fugitive, an outlaw. And she had become one too by following me. I had lived into hiding for the past year and I couldn’t begin to imagine what the next months (years?) would do to her. It would crush her, destroy her beautiful spirit. I knew that the Gunmen were dead now. And our few friends at the FBI would be questioned and threatened. Scully’s mother wouldn’t see her daughter for God knew how long. Had Scully considered all this before jumping off the cliff with me? Would we have to change location every day, week, or month? I looked over at her. I’m pretty sure she felt my inquiring eyes on her but kept looking outside the window. She looked exhausted.

 

      “You wanna stop over here?” I asked. She was absent-minded. “Scully?”

      “Hmm?” She turned to me, her eyes empty, impossible to read.

      “Do you wanna take a break? For the night?”

      “Sure.”

 

When the motel manager asked what names to write down, I thought of an alias I had used in the past and I answered George E. Hale and Evelina Conklin. Scully softly smiled at me.

She went to the bathroom and I heard the water running when I sat on the floor, my back against the bed, staring at the rain drawing lines down the window.

 

      “If Agent Scully had not been there with you, I shudder to think what would have happened to you. I’d say you owe her your life. It takes a big man to admit this, but … if I had had someone as savvy as her by my side all those years ago in the X-Files I might not have retired. I suggest that we have a toast to your good fortune. And I insist that we have it. So... what’ll it be? A little of the … oh, uh … anyone for water?” Arthur Dales offered.

 

It had been a hell of a rainy day. But at least it had ended well.

 

      “You think I’m crazy,” I said, walking away a few steps from Scully in a cemetery in Bellefleur under the pouring rain. When I looked back, it seemed like something was bothering her. “What?”

      “Peggy O’Dell’s watch stopped a couple of minutes after nine. I made a note of it when I saw the body,” Scully remembered.

 

She laughed, finding everything ludicrous but apparently believing it. Our first day together. Her first laughter, her first doubt, her first leap of faith in me, her first step towards a trust that had blinded her so much I had the impression today of having violated.

Scully exited the bathroom and I tilted my face to her, greeting her with a gentle smile. She looked a little better, fresher. But for how long? She laid on the bed in her white robe, propped herself up on one elbow, resting her head on it. I bent my head back against the mattress, thoughtful.

 

      “What are you thinking?” She asked after a while.

 

We talked a lot, remembering how this incredible journey had all started and keeping hope that it could still end well, and then I pulled myself up from the floor to lay on my side, facing her.

 

The car was parked in front of an old countryside house surrounded by wheat fields in the middle of nowhere. Scully was talking to a woman on the upper stair of the porch. Sitting behind the wheel, I leaned over to look at the sky. It was getting dark. Although it was the middle of the day, big black clouds were gathering and draping over the landscape. I opened the passenger window and called out for Scully. She turned around and raised her hand, asking for a little more time. I let her. Not a minute later, there was lightning, a huge electric arc, a brilliant shock of white and blue that reached the ground from the sky, sticking a fork to the field possessively.

 

      “Scully, we gotta go!” I yelled this time.

 

She begged me for another moment. I scanned the sky again and I saw the unidentified flying object: a luminous moving disk slowly piercing down the clouds. The smoker had been right. The alien invasion was now. I ran out of the car and walked rapidly to the women.

 

      “Scully, there’s no time,” I pressed her gently, hooking my hand around her arm to make her follow me. “We have to find a shelter _now_ , come on.”

      “But she knows where William is,” she begged me.

      “Scully, it’s too late, this is now, this is the end.”

 

I woke up with a start and the feeling of panic, an extremely squeezing fear in my core, and I harshly gripped the wrist of whom was touching me.

 

      “Mulder, it’s me,” she said softly. “You just had a bad dream.”

 

We were lying in bed but I found myself helplessly frozen. My heart was racing, my chest pounding, unable to catch my breath. I felt lightheaded and faint. I released her wrist and she stroked my forehead. It had been several days since we had been on the run and I was still not accustomed to having her around with me. But this dream, this panic attack had felt so real I thought I might have died right there on the spot.

 

      “You’re hot and your pulse is racing,” she said. I nodded, feeling a drop of sweat rolling down my temple. “You should get into the shower.”

      “No, I’m good.”

      “No, you’re not. Get up,” she said, pulling me by the hand out of the bed. “Help me out here.”

      “Scully, lay off me.”

      “Mulder, come on.”

      “No. Stop,” I said firmly. “You should go.”

      “I’m sorry?”

      “Get outta here, Scully. Go get a life. This isn’t one. There isn’t one for you here with me.”

      “Mulder, when I want your opinion about what to do with my life I’ll ask you. Now, come on.”

      “Like you asked me before you gave William away?”

      “Wha— Son of a …” She threw my hand across my face and walked to the bathroom.

      What an asshole. “I’m sorry.” I hurried out of the bed and knocked on the bathroom door. She was covering it but I could hear her cry. “Scully, I’m sorry. Let me in.”

 

I repeated I was sorry again. And I was. I didn’t know why I had said that. Or I knew, I was damaged, like her. I _knew_ she didn’t want to give our son away. Of course I knew it. I knew I had stabbed her a second time tonight. If only the second time …

 

      “Scully, open the door,” I repeated again. “Well, then get away from it cause I’m going to open it anyway!”

 

I started to jiggle the doorknob. I started to kick it with my shoulder. And when she heard my first foot kick, she opened.

 

      “I need to be alone. You need to leave me alone”

      “I know. But I can’t do that.”

 

Although they were dry, her eyes were red. She turned her back to me and supported her weight with both hands on the sink, noisily and deeply breathing.

 

      “I didn’t mean that, Scully,” I stared at her through the mirror, but her eyes were downturned.

      “Okay,” she said in a tone that meant _Now will you please go away_.

      I took a step closer and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could take it back.”

      “Mulder, you gotta …” She grabbed my arms and tried to unhook them from her. “I needa be alone.”

 

The more she tried to take my arms off of her, the more I bent down closer to her. My face was in her neck, my pelvis bone pressing against her lower back. William’s face flashed before my eyes again and I had to close them, and to push away the tears that threatened to fall. I pressed my nose in the crook of her neck, inhaled deeply and kissed her there. My hands travelled up to her chest and she tried to take my hands off of her again as I began to massage her breasts and pinch her nipples between my fingers. I was feeling my erection grow and I couldn’t stop touching her, kissing her, feeling and smelling her. The re-found sensation of her under my hands and lips were arousing me fully, completely turning me on, shutting my brain and ears, and making me groan with desire. One of my hands slid lower south as I held her captive against me.

 

      “Mulder —” she pleaded. “Stop,” she said with a little more conviction. But I didn’t. “I hate you,” she whispered.

 

My breath hitched as if I'd been punched in the chest. I didn’t say anything at first as anger and confusion welled inside me, my pulse throbbing so loud, I could barely think. The harshness of her words brought me right back to present. I looked at her, shocked. We were both in shock. I loosened my grip and she turned around, readjusting her tank top, combing her hair back in place. She braced her ass and hands against the sink while I took a step back, keeping my balance my back against the wall of the small bathroom. We stared at each other in silence with reddened eyes for a moment. I should have felt sorry or embarrassed but I didn’t. I should have felt ashamed but, again, I didn’t. I felt the pain, though, that I needed to tell her it had to stop.

 

      “You should get away, Scully,” I said, my chest achingly going up and down quickly. “Return to DC, return to your mother, whatever —”

      “Shut up,” she cut me off.

      “I’ve meant it once, I mean it now: it’s not worth it.”

      “It’s too late.”

      “No, it’s not! You can tell them everything. You can get your job back. —”

      “Mulder —”

      “— You can get your life back. You don’t want to go on the run with me.”

      “Fuck you!”

      “Scully, please, hear me out,” I said, taking a step forward and holding my hands on her hips.

      “No, _you_ hear me out! Within these last two years, I’ve lost you when you’ve been abducted. I’ve found your dead body and you’ve come back to life. Then your life has been threatened and I’ve _kicked_ you out of my life … And then, you were sentenced to death in a military jail. Somewhere along, you’ve given me what was most precious to me and what I thought I could never have.” I tried to step back again, but she stopped me. “No,” she said, pulling me back by grabbing my belt. “Giving William up for adoption has been the most difficult thing I ever had to do in my entire life, Mulder”.

      “I know, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to say that. Scully, I fully support and understand your decision, and I don’t blame you one bit. I know you had no other choice and you did what you thought was best for him.”

      “It’s been the most difficult thing I’ve had to do, Mulder,” she continued, “but it’s still the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given to me. And if you ask me now to go away, to disappear from your life and never see you again, it’s a double punishment. It’s like all I have done since I’ve started this journey with has was meant nothing.”

      “A few days ago, you told me you were afraid I would ever forgive you, but you have nothing to be forgiven for, Scully. I know. I just wish we could go back in time and change things.”

      “Well, we can’t, Mulder. We gotta keep our feet to the ground and keep moving forward.”

      I nodded.

      “My place is here with you. When you knew your end was near, you wrote to me: _You gave me a reason to get up in the morning and to hope in the evening._ That’s how I feel now. My heart is here, Mulder,” she said, laying her palm on my chest, “and there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.”

 

I cupped her cheek with one hand and thumbed it, looking right into her eyes, and I bent down and kissed her, pulling her closer to me with my other hand behind her back. Her lips parted to accept my darting tongue and I felt, this time, her body melt in my arms while her hands slid up and down my back underneath my shirt, and cupped my butt to press me closer to her. After a while, she hugged her arms around my neck, cupping the back of my skull. I still meant and believed that her place should not be with me. But for the first time in so long, I felt my blanket of hope wrap me thoroughly again, and I promised myself to try and keep a light heart, if not for me, at least for her.

 

      “You still need to cool off, Mulder,” she said, pulling back.

 

She pulled me out of my shirt and looked at me. I stared at her, blessing her for her tenacity, her stubbornness, her epitome of strength and resilience, and her love, and then I slowly pulled her out of her tank top, too.

We were more than ever isolated from the rest of the world. It was more than ever us against the world. But we had two hearts were that beating as one.

I knew a little about George E. Hale and Evelina Conklin Hale. Like us, they had only had one child, a daughter. But nevertheless, when Evelina passed away, long after her husband, she had had nine grandchildren and fifteen great grandchildren. Maybe we could still not give up on a miracle. Maybe there _was_ hope.


End file.
